We are the Differences
by Cookie Master's Apprentice
Summary: It all starts out rough. There was no love between us then. Just the hunter and the prey, then a dragon and a human who can't understand the other but wants to try. One who makes expectations and one who breaks the expectations. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue: The Human Child on the Rooftop

_First shot at an OC for this fandom. Note that this story will be a tad bit different from the other OCs I've seen in the fandom. Read on and you'll find out. Oh, and this isn't Berk yet. We'll get there in good times._

_Now, off to the actual story!_

_Disclaimer: I don't see how a thirteen-year-old girl who is good at nothing can create such an awesome movie like How to Train Your Dragon_

_**Edit: This file was edited and changed on May 4, 2010**_

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**We are the Differences**

**by**

**Cookie Master's Apprentice**

**Prologue**

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The first time I met him was on a midwinter night.

We were in a raid. The dragons, all kinds of dragons, were attacking that Viking village a few degrees north enough not to be snowy all year long but far enough south so that the winter could still kill anyone dumb enough to go around playing with the snow. Death Rock, the humans called it, and death it was: huge hurricanes and winds attacking the shores in spring, rainy days in summer, and cold, bitter blizzards in winter, not to include that terrifying base of rocks that jutted up when the tides pulled out and became the graves for many ships. Overall, it wasn't a great place for living, and nobody could manage to live here but us, the dragons. Well, until the humans showed up, that is.

To be honest, I was impressed with the stunts they pulled the first time they got here on those floating caved-in big wooden planks called "boats". I remembered seeing more than a third of their flock died, females, hatchlings and males alike, yet the leader, the…chieftain, kept giving pretty convincing lectures and kept his people going. Finally, after twenty-five years, they got down pretty good, and we started attacking their livestock.

That was when we first began our war. It started out small at first, two or three sheep or other animals at a time, and the Vikings blamed it on the wolves, but then the attacks grew bigger and bigger and bigger until we finally started to go in flocks, ten to twenty at a time, and the humans started making observations on us, taking a few of our kind prisoner to train with, and in less than five years, the war became full-force.

We didn't often come in large raids, though, since we could catch our own foods and store up for winter, but when the wild preys were going scarce, we found it necessary to, er, _borrow_ from our neighbors (who took a fourth of the island and were growing). Unfortunately, we never remembered to return what we have borrowed, so we were considered thieves. Actually, they had better be glad the Council of Elders hadn't decided on a full-out attack on them yet. Two hundred humans are several flights under "enough" for a hundred and twenty-five (and counting) flying, fire-spitting, winged beasts.

That night, it was my first time to fight humans in large number. Needless to say, I was excited, not because I get to eat the humans, but because I get to fight them. I have spent most of my hatchling years in the nest hearing my brothers talk about how wonderful the raids was, how they swooped down and chopped the wooden dwellings the humans sleep in with their powerful, razor-sharp wings, how they screamed, how the battles were fought heatedly and all that.

I have been responsible for some folks going missing in the forest at night, and ew, their meats are stringy and smell like dung and sweat, but I have never fought them in such large numbers before. I hovered above the rest of the dragons, not too far back so that I would be left out but not too evident so I would be the first target either.

"Aerial, take the southern part of the dwelling!" a roar echoed from the front as we dived toward the human village. Adrenaline was starting to rush through my veins now, and I almost missed what was being said.

A dragon, a Monstrous Nightmare, swiveled in that direction and roared, setting herself on fire on the way and slammed down on the screaming humans, and BOOM, they were on fire.

"Water!" I heard a human male's voice called. "Water, someone!"

I went toward that voice, my eyes pinpointing out where it came from quickly, and with one efficient swipe of my wing diagnostically, I tore a deep, clean gash in his back, nearly cutting him in half, but not quite. I didn't enjoy cut-up pieces of humans. They look gross, somehow.

With a flourish, I folded in my wings and landed roughly in front of the downed human. The smell of salty blood mingled with the putrid scent of his sweat and that equally repulsing smell of humans. They all stink.

I pulled my head back in distaste and looked up at the sound of running feet approaching from behind me. The humans would take at least another ten minutes before I was in sight, I realized, but my concentration on that subject was broken as soon as I raised my head far enough to look at a rooftop (I think that was what the humans called the top of their dwellings) to my left.

He sat there, silent, big grey eyes watching me with fear, but mingled into it were awe, a sense of defiance and acceptance. The fear-scent was in the air alright, but nearly blocked out by all the other putrid smell of sweat in the atmosphere. He was wearing a black woven tunic, leather leggings, fur boots with the addition of a string of Monstrous Nightmare scales as a necklace, if I remembered correctly. His hair, jet black, was clipped short at the base of his neck. Or maybe it was the trick of the light. I didn't know at that time.

And so there we stood (I stood, he sat) in absolute silence, staring at each other, my head two inches below his neck, five feet between us before my snout touched his nose.

"Timberjack!" a shout bellowed from behind me, and I glanced back to see the three figures of bulking Vikings racing at me. Glancing at the hatchling once more, I thought for a moment about how I should deal with him, then with one last curious stare – I just didn't get what he was thinking, sitting right there next to a dragon who had just slain one of his kind with only a bit of fear and acceptance (what in Thor?) – before I raced down the street, jumped onto a rooftop, spread my wings and shot into the sky again.

That hatchling…what in Odin's name is he? I found myself wonder as I flew up and then swooped down again for another kill, my blade-wing opened wide and slid through the wooden dwellings that hadn't been set on fire or full of spikes yet because of my brethrens.

I didn't return to the area where I found the strange hatchling again. Another dragon would probably get him. Or maybe his brethrens will pull him down and get some sense into that head. Either way, why should I care?

So _why_ did I want to see that hatchling again, if just for the need to satisfy my curiosity?

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_I didn't see any OC dragon's point of view fanfictions 'round this fandom that is not a Night Fury yet. So, if I have missed something, tell me the title and I'll come see the fiction. _

_Now, enjoy and review!_

_~the Apprentice_


	2. And So, We Met Again

_And the need to write more for this came back. Now, enjoy! No disclaimer this time. For long stories, I think I'll just use one of those._

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**And So, We Met Again**

Our raid had been successful. We wouldn't go hungry this winter, I thought as I dropped a lamb down in the nest I built on a sturdy cliff in our five mountains, this one made specifically for Timberjack and Monstrous Nightmares only. My brothers had moved on to mate long ago, but I had yet to choose mine, so I remained single. It was good to be free, really. I don't need a bunch of bumbling dragonets to get into my way of doing things.

Stomach growling with hunger and the exhaustion of the adrenaline that had fueled my first raid, I gulped the animal down quickly, found it still not enough to satisfy my stomach but dismissed it for another time and curled up. With a deep breath, pleased with the temporary fillings and the warmth the mountain offers, I closed my eyes.

Before I could nod off like I wish to, though, the memory of that young human flashed across my mind again.

_He sat silently, not seeming to care that other dragons might just swoop down and snatch him up for a meal anytime. His grey eyes were wide with fear, but along with it, grudging acceptance. _

My eyes snapped open again. I snorted in annoyance at the memory. Now it wouldn't leave me alone, would it?

But thinking back, it really was weird to see the young human sitting like that. I know humans are not exactly on the intelligent side, but to sit on a rooftop in the middle of a dragon raid was just plain…madness.

It was like he had _wanted_ to die.

The idea startled me for a second before I brushed it aside. Nah, it can't be that. The humans are stubborn enough to continue on trying to live here with all of us dragons around going to "borrow" their foods and strong enough to keep us hanging back from total destruction for some decades now.

That young human was one of their offspring. Why should he be any different than the rest of them?

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Morning came slowly, sluggishly. The sun had decided to play hide and seek with the clouds, it seems, for I didn't see a ray of light until perhaps past midday. Winter was officially here, and even as I lied in my warm den, I could smell the cold wetness of snow before I opened my eyes and saw it.

Standing up and yawning, I stretched, swinging my tail around a few more times, took care not to hit any of the short-tempered Nightmares because of my natural length and size. Glancing upward, all I could see was falling snow and a patch of gray sky from the opening of the mountaintop. My nest hadn't been invaded by the white, fluffy thing thanks to the stone roof that jutted out right above it, supported by four hard pillars. At this rate of wind, however, it would be a matter of time before the winds sweep the snow into my home, get melted by my body heat and wet the entire thing with annoying water.

Grunting with discomfort at the looming future, I arched my long neck to look at the gray sky. It would probably be good to go hunting. I've finished the lamb to the bones already. Of course, I could've gone to ask for another lamb – we've caught plenty – but I wanted to exercise. It wouldn't be long before it gets too snowy to go anywhere without freezing half to death first anyway.

"Going somewhere?" a voice asked to my left as I prepared to launch myself into open air. I turned at the sound of it and hummed in amusement.

"Lavabreath, a joy to see that the humans hadn't beaten you down," I said to the speaker, my voice neutral. The speaker was known as the Blood-Drinker by the old and a legend of fear by the young. I have grown out of the habit of trembling whenever he speaks, but I couldn't get the nervous tingling out of my system even after all these years.

The ancient black-and-green Timberjack chuckled humorlessly. "Yes, I see that you are as grateful to know that I am safe and sound as always, fledging," he sneered, poking his head out from the cave-in on the wall next to my own nest, yellow eyes taking on an odd glint. "So, I assume you enjoy the humans' flesh?" he asked conversationally.

"No," I answered, getting ready to jump. "They smell horrible and their meat is gross. How can you even digest those things?"

I was a fifth through my leap when Lavabreath asked, "Fledging, ever tried the little ones' meat? They are more tender and sweeter."

That made me stop so suddenly I had to scrape at the rocky cliff edge for a moment of panic to steady myself, my tail lashing out and catching hold of a sturdy rock pillar. When I was sure I wouldn't fall over, I glanced at Lavabreath. Not because I mind the children-eating little ritual the old wyrm took on, mind you. No, that's his business to which he chooses to digest. A few more folks who won't grow up to challenge us and Thor do those two-legs grow fast.

It was just surprise, not horror. We usually try to keep the little ones, human or dragon, out of our ways. We often don't kill them until they start swinging axes and steels at us.

Dragon traditions, noble and never forgotten. If only those humans could think the same when they shattered my cousins' eggs.

"We don't eat the little ones," I said carelessly. "And I'm going to hunt."

"We eat whatever comes to hand," the older dragon answered nonchalantly like he was speaking of the weather. He tilted his head slightly in interest. "I thought you would've learned by now, dear fledging, that it is either 'eat the food or be the food'."

He was right. It really was the rule on this land. Eat or be eaten. Go mad or be killed by the mad. Slaughter everything that can harm you before it has a chance. I stared at him openly for a moment, then said lamely, "I don't think I will enjoy any human meat, Lavabreath. Not for awhile, at least. They are foul. All of them. They are all the same."

Lavabreath chuckled again, this time with a bit of interest and withdrew his head, so that it disappeared from sight. "It is your choice whether or not you decide to munch on some of those pathetic walking meat bags, dragoness," he said merrily, the tone sending a chill from my back to the tip of my tail. "Happy hunting." Then he retreated behind the pillar between us, out of sight.

I waited for another five seconds, but he said no more. Slowly, I tensed my legs again, folded in my wings and with a practiced leap, jumped into thin air.

As I was clear of the walls of my den, I snapped out my wings and let them catch the winds. Rising with the current of the wind, I left the nest to barrel into the gray icy sky.

_They are foul. All of them. They are all the same. _

Except for that little human child. What is _up_ with him?

* * *

The deer was trying to pull up the last of the yellowed grass from the ground even as snow started covering up the soft earth, sending the seeds into sleep until Spring arrives. I will have to hunt these deer now or risk waiting until spring, since they will go into a hungry state for the rest of the five-month-long winter and there will be nothing but bones for me to chew on.

Slowly, carefully, I crept toward the prey, my footprints silenced by the building snow, my eyes wide. The deer was too busy to see anything. With its eyesight, it certainly wouldn't see a black-gray dragoness lurking around it until it was too late. Well, it _shouldn't_.

Closer. Closer. Forty meters. Twenty. Ten. I can hear the heartbeats. I can almost taste the warm, sweet blood of the prey…

"YA-A-A!" a shout echoed from up the slope to my left. I jerked back in surprise, heart in my throat (oh, yes, great dragon I am) as the deer didn't even look back but bounced away just as a figure clad in bearskins came charging down the slope and landed on the place where the deer had just stood. The weak sunlight from the sky glinted off of steel from the stick he was holding. It was a ball with spikes on it; a mace.

My instinct screamed at me to back away, spit fire; kill it, whatever, but my mind and the hard-ingrained lessons of hunting from my parents kept me frozen in place. _Moving will make yourself known,_ my mother had said, whacking me repeatedly to make sure that it got into my brain.

It was a human, I realized as soon as conscious thoughts started flowing freely again. A male, probably, looking at the bulge of it, and judging by the stature, it was young. Not much older than fifteen years or perhaps less. These Vikings' bodies had the tendency to outgrow their brains by far. What is with that?

"Yeah, you go, Keg!" another shout echoed from up the slope. The voice was rough and raw but lighter than those deep-chest screams the adults often shot out in a raid. A young male, then, if not a female with a throat mutation.

There were more footsteps before six more of the little folks slid down the slope to join this one, who, as I observed, outmatched a ten-year-old hatchling in sheer size if not intelligence. He was bulky and wrapped in so many layers of fur to keep himself warm that it made me wonder that if I eat him, how much of it will be fur instead of meat.

The rest were about the same except for some who stood taller than others. As they cheered and slapped each other's palms, I started to wonder how much of meat they were worth beneath all the furs the wimpy humans needed for protection. Probably not much. And they scared away my preys.

Are all the young ones born to be obnoxious?

"That's so close, too!" a thinner male with front teeth that poked out of his lips grinned oddly. "Two more seconds and you could've nailed that deer."

_Without the noises you make that makes a lovesick Gronkle burn with jealousy,_ I thought sullenly, imagining the sweet taste of blood and victory had these fools not intervened. Then I licked my lips. Four little males against a dragoness. The odds were on my side if I am to attack, but the rules…

No, the rules said to _avoid_ to kill the young ones, not _harm_ them. Biting off a limb or two will not be considered a terrible violation of the traditions, will it not? Besides, who's here to watch? Far as I know, several more hungry dragons were wandering around at the moment, so I didn't see a reason why I shouldn't listen to Lavabreath and check out hatchling flesh.

"You do realize that you are standing in dragon's territory, right?" a higher-pitched voice called from up the slope, stopping me from going forward. This one was most likely a female's judging from its height.

The burly moron who'd startled away the deer – _my_ deer! – snorted in derision. "Aw, c'mon, Alfdis, will you quit worrying about those beasts and come down here?" he demanded, kicking up some snow with one of his round legs. "See? There's no dragon here! Those beasts are probably sitting on their stupid haunches and eating our foods that they'd stolen." The tone was bitter.

_You are honing for a fireball in your face, pest._ I shifted slightly, taking care not to make any of the gathered snow on my body fall down, narrowing my eyes and trying to hold in my brewing rage. Beasts? Look at the ones who are talking.

"How do you know?" the female voice came again, this time laden with anger and exasperation. "You know how good at camouflaging some of them are! And they might just be hunting for fun! And they can kill us all in minutes, too."

The fur snorted again. "I've killed dragons before, Alfdis, and I know when one of those monsters is near. Don't you trust me?" His five friends nodded their heads and mumbled agreements.

Another voice spoke, this one a little bit deeper than the female's tone and was light-hearted. "Well, I was considering we should trust you, but after that _wonderful_ dealing with the Nadder - which, shall I remind you, is not slayed; it's just a dragonet - I'm rethinking."

The rude male's face changed color into a cherry red (how in _Thor_ did the humans do that? – it was _fascinating_) and he shouted back, "Shut your mouth until you can properly swing a mace properly, Pine-needle!"

"My sword is enough to toss you off of Death Rock's southern cliff, Bull-face. I don't need a bulky mace to do the dirty work for me."

The male's face turned even redder, if that was possible, as I watched the exchange with growing interest. Who knew human exchanges could be so fascinating?

Just as the male opened his mouth to retort, however, some snow got into my nostrils and before I could hold it in, I sneezed loudly. Oops.

All eyes turned toward me. One second, two seconds…

"DRAGON!" one of the six, a very, very round one, shouted out before taking off running up the slope while the others followed frantically. The last one – the one who talked big – threw his mace at me as he spotted me among the now snow-covered black trees. Or actually, he probably saw two big blue eyeballs instead of me, since my striped scales often make it hard for humans to see in a winter forest even at close range. Addition noting: human senses decrease sharply in a panic.

I blew a tiny, lazy ball of fire at the weapon and sent it flying backward before leaping out of my hiding place, roaring. Time for the chase. I was getting cramps after all.

With a pathetic yelp, the fur ball dove for cover in a cave on the wide slope that even I missed (probably because it was way too small for a dragon and not because of my eyesight) while I clawed at the opening, roaring and enjoying the fear-scent that penetrated the snow.

There were whimpers from the cave, and when I picked my head up, building up gas for a fireball that would cook the offensive youngling alive – who cares about the traditions anymore – when I caught sight of the black figure standing on top of the slope.

Penetrating gray eyes set in a pale smooth face topped with raven hair met mine for a moment, awed, fearful and enthralled, before they went to the cave and he probably heard the whimpers as well. He looked one more time at me then returned to the cave, body still frozen.

"SOMEBODY!" the voice that had just mocked my kind shouted out. "HELP!" It was near sobbing now.

The young, short male clad in black clothes and fur coat and boots looked hesitant for a moment. Then with a quick, nimble move of his hand, he had withdrawn a knife and sent it flying toward me.

On instinct, I released the pending gas in my mouth to blast it at the coming steel, melting it instantly. When the fire died down, the hatchling was gone. Narrowing my eyes, I could see him run with incredible speed away from me, away from the slope.

Slight anger boiled in me. Nobody throws something pointy at a dragon and outruns her. Definitely not me.

Roaring, I leaped onto the slope easily and darted after the offender. A small part of my mind registered that it was the curious child I've seen before, but the bigger part, the part that said no self-esteemed dragon would let a human go loose after trying to hurt him, shouted loudly for me to catch him, to show him what I am capable of.

I obliged.


	3. Hunting Game

_Warning: This chapter contains a mild suicide attempt by a very desperate kid with stubbornness issues to the max and a dragoness who is giddy about her chase. Just so you know._

_Enjoy!_

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Hunting Game

I easily covered the distance the young male has put between us in five bounces, ignoring the snow. Before he could get into catching range, however, he dived into the forest next to him on the snow path, into the narrow tree, and I paused shortly to examine the way-too-small spaces between the plants. It was certainly not enough room for me to go through.

Then I snorted in derision as I remembered who I am. Opening my right wing, I spun and chopped off six trees with ease before diving after the hatchling, cutting down obstacles and slithering like a snake when needed. I was reasonably small for a Timberjack, so when the thick trees started to thin a bit, I folded in my wings and resorted to running.

His smell was elusive in this forest, and I only caught it because I heard loud, heavy breathings. This little one smells like pine cones and the trees instead of foul sweat. Does he spend his time rolling up and down in a sea of crushed pine needles or what?

I effortlessly followed the trail of the harsh breathings and the smell of slight sweat, only stopping now and then to catch up to it once again before bounding off in the new direction. After awhile, though, it stopped. Bursting with glee but disappointed that the chase – the game – was over, I leaped down into a valley to find my prize.

At first, I saw nothing. The valley was empty except for a lot of snow with a single rather large lake in the middle, somehow not yet frozen and three caves next to each other on one side of one of the hillsides that led into the valley. Curious, I followed the scent until I stood before a large boulder under a huge aspen tree.

Grinning with delight, I craned my neck to look behind the rock –

– And saw nothing but a fur coat. The little one's fur coat.

Staring dumbfounded at the thing for a minute, the solution finally shot through my mind and I glared suspiciously at the lake. So he'd discarded the fur coat here, distracts me with its scent, jumped into the water and washed himself off of the smell?

I stared sadly at the coat for a moment before grinning again. Well, this game is going to be a fun one. It had been awhile since I met a non-dragon this challenging.

For a moment, I sat silent, listening to the winds and trying to detect something, anything, from the sonata of winter. When I got nothing, disappointment surged. The winds and the snow will blow away any scent in this weather unless it was blood. Looks like I won't be able to find anything after all.

Just when I was about to give up, I heard it: a hacking sound not far from the woods to my left. I've heard it some times before, made by the humans who had inhaled way too much smoke for their own good. Delighted, I trotted toward the sound, slinking in between the trees and folding my wings tight against my body so I could fit.

You know, sometimes belonging to the dragon race with the biggest wingspan of our kinds had its disadvantages.

I could've flown, but then I couldn't land. These trees were way too narrow for that. Cutting them off will be more than easy, but then again, a Timberjack in the woods on the human's side of the island will cause more than just a bit of notice. I didn't want that. This game is too good to be ruined.

The sound was growing closer, and I hastened. The trees were thinning. Before long, I saw the end of the myriad of tall pines, and with a soft hiss of glee, I burst out…

…to notice two seconds later that there was a very, very deep and ever wide trench in between me and the next set of ground right beneath my feet. And I was falling.

Fast.

"NO!" I roared, instinctively snapping out my wings and flapped violently. Fortunately for me, I had enough room to manage control. Gliding, I landed on the other side of the steep and seemingly endless trench behind me before I realized my mistake and cursed myself.

Dragons aren't supposed to look back. I always looked back and lose sight of the target ahead of me.

Snarling as the panic finally ebbed away to leave behind only annoyance, I glanced around, picking up every and all details around me. It didn't exactly take long for me to find the black-clad figure standing about twenty-five meters from my place, looking at me with wide, inquisitive eyes and breathing hard. Curiously, he wasn't soaked in water as I thought he would. In fact, he was pretty dry if you don't count the snow still sticking on his garments and some areas on his clothes that was darkened with liquid.

Ah, so the little human rolled in the snow to erase the smell? Possible.

"Oh, wow, I thought you would've fallen for that," I heard him say clearly before turning to run. Again.

I let out a guttural roar of warning and irritation before folding my wings in again to slide between the trees. This one is as slimy as an eel. As much as I don't want to say it, I was impressed. Very impressed, in fact. I've chased many humans in my life, some older than this one and some younger. None of them had escaped with their life.

Heck, none of them had even made me try this hard.

Quickly catching up to the young male, I lunged toward his feet with my jaws open, ready to snap them onto the pathetic fur-covered appendage and drag him back. This time I will have my prize. I never fail at chasing a prey.

As I closed in, the young one's knees bent and he leaped into the air, high enough to avoid my teeth and forceful enough to propel him across a large boulder, where he put down his hand on the top to push himself wholly over the thing. He stumbled for a split second but then regained his momentum enough to carry on his speed.

Blinking, I withdrew my neck before my head could collide with the stone and braced against it with my forelegs to step over it, bounding after the runaway little runt. He was tiring, I could sense it with the gasping breathes he was taking in. Soon he will have to give. That will be my victory and his downfall.

So I didn't try for a lunge again, merely chasing him, careful to keep close enough to make him try to push faster, his hind legs pumping but not actually far enough so I could miss when he starts slowing. The snow is helping this chase greatly, if it was only for me.

For what seemed like ten minutes, I leaped from ground to ground, sending up snowflakes, feinting roars and throwing out my claws at him now and then to make sure he had no more energy to spend. Each time, the child danced out of the way with almost practiced ease, losing his momentum only half of the time.

_He must be quite skilled at running away,_ I thought as I swung my sharp tail at my target from behind – in which he dropped, rolled and was back on his feet when it whooshed past, _to avoid me so successfully._ The realization brought about faint amusement. I never thought these humans taught their children to run. Of all the other chases, this was the first one who hadn't quit trying to escape after awhile and turn back to charge at me with whatever they've got in hand when I finally cornered them. This little one didn't seem much, but he hadn't given up.

The tail came swinging back. This time, it hit the prey squarely on the chest and sent him flying backward. He bumped against a boulder and sat there, dazed for a moment and _just_ long enough for me to bring my claw crashing down on him with a triumphant cry.

_I've got you._

At the last second, the prey somehow managed to roll away so I was only able to give him a large scratch on the arm. He quickly got onto his feet and darted away, his left, er, _hand_ went up to cover the cut on his opposite arm. He didn't look back as he leaped over a root on the ground and jumped onto the receding patches of bare earth to prolong his life. The snow will thicken soon, and it will slow him down. He will be dead then.

"Run, little human, run," I muttered, jumping after him and leaping at his back only to be evaded once again as the little one jumped to the side. As he rolled onto his back, our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and once again I saw the almost exact expression I've seen the night before as he sat on the rooftop.

Fear was prominent, but there was steel in the grey eyes and no acceptance, only stubbornness. _I'm not giving up,_ it said. _I'm not giving up, I'm not giving up, I'm not giving up._

"I'm not giving UP!" the hatchling shouted suddenly, prancing to his feet and took off running again, a burst of speed propelling him on. Crimson droplets painted his trail as he did but he paid no mind to the falling blood. Despite his pumping feet, I noticed that he was slowing down greatly and his breathings were ragged. I'm winning this race.

Not wanting for this fun little game to stop so soon, I toyed around with the hatchling a bit. I didn't outright grabbed him but continuously swung at him and stayed close enough on his heels to keep him tumbling through the woods.

We continued with the dance, the human getting sloppier in every new swings I sent at him but managed to remain upright all the way. After a few more snaps and leaps, I started to admire his determination. He seemed like he was about to topple over any minute, yet he kept moving even as his grace was diminishing. I have known stubbornness – I've seen it in his people – but this one would not stop and go for a suicide attack like the rest. He continued to run, perhaps hoping that somehow, sometimes, if he kept running, something would come and would get him out of this situation.

This one truly valued his life.

Suddenly, we burst out of the thick and narrow trees into open air. I paused for a moment, expecting the ground under my feet to be gone again just like the last time, but it was still solid. Keeping half my attention on the little one, I glanced around our surroundings.

We were going toward a cliff. It was one of the many take-off points of the dragons and perfect places to commit suicides for humans (I've seen two in my years). The male was running toward the end of that cliff.

I snorted. Yes, this race is _over_. He was cornered. It has been a fun game, but every game has its end.

Slowly, I approached the hatchling who had turned to look down from the cliff and then turned hastily back to me, biting his lip. We faced each other once again, except this time I was looking down at him, not level-eyed.

Gray eyes only half a shade darker than the cloudy, snowy sky above us strike me, searching, thinking. I halted my movement toward him and waited to see what he was going to do. Humans have some rather…interesting reactions when they were pushed into a corner. So this youngling, the one who looked like he'd wanted to die yesterday night, what is he going to do?

We held our gazes for what seemed like forever before the hatchling broke it.

He swallowed hard, a flash of fear in his eyes but then replaced by utter defiance and grudging acceptance as he turned away from me. That in itself was shocking. Any fool knows not to turn his back on a dragon especially when it was chasing you. Still, it was nothing compared to the thing that the hatchling did next.

With not a sound, he leaped over the edge and disappeared from view.

* * *

_Rough start for a relationship, huh? Well, let's just say bizarre events often lead to a promising life-long friendship._

_Review!_

_~the Apprentice_


	4. Unexpected Camping Trip

_Whoop! Chapter 3! I'm on a roll with this story! Now, thanks for all you reviewers, and sorry about the cliffhanger, too (I know how annoying they are, so I update fast). Keep the reviews flowing, guys, and I'll work extra hard with this story. _

_Enjoy!_

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**Unexpected Camping Trip**

Blinking in shock, I trotted toward the cliff and looked down at the ocean down below and the treacherous rocks that poked out of the water. Nothing. No sign of a bobbling black head. But then again, I might mistake his hair for a rock at this height. Even dragon eyes weren't good enough for this kind of distance.

Maybe it was a good thing to go down there and check if he really was there. However, what will I do if he was dead? Eat him? No, I hate human flesh. Cackle over his dead body and fly away? Um, perhaps so. I could just toss it out into the ocean and wish the sharkworms a happy meal. Maybe I could bring it back to Lavabreath, although I don't know if that old wyrm likes dead folks.

After a moment of hesitation, I stepped up to the cliff, spread my wings and dived. Well, there is no harm in checking. One way or another, the little one was most likely dead or dying. No one can survive this kind of fall.

But then again, he didn't seem willing to give up his life just now. He'd fought so hard to live, then suddenly he saw a cliff and went jumping off of it? What kind of crazy kid was he?

The questions and wonders circled my brain as I glided down toward the weathering ocean beneath and landed on a rock that was shaped like a dragon tooth: skyward and pretty pointy at the end. I glanced around the area to try and spot a pale, broken and dead body of a human hatchling, but I found nothing.

Strange, I mused as the search came out empty, where did the body go? There wasn't even a trace of blood in the stormy water. This can't be. Even a sturdy dragon can't survive this, let alone a scrawny human. Well, an extremely flexible human, but that shouldn't make any difference in this kind of free fall.

Something hit the back of my head, creating a hollow _clonk_ sound. I shook my head in surprised and glanced upward. What in Odin's beloved lance?

There, hanging directly beneath the cliff, right out of my sight even if I had looked down, was the little one. I saw the end of one of those knives the Viking children, the littlest ones, often carried gripped tightly in the male's left hand. The blade itself was embedded deep in the rock. Even as I watched, cracks appeared from the stone surrounding the blade, and I suddenly got a very good idea what was going to happen.

I spread my wings as fast as I could while more crack-crack sounds came from far above. It would be a matter of time now before the cliff carves in and the piece of stone comes tumbling down on my head, I thought as I prepared to soar. Pebbles of every size were raining down on me now, and it was only thanks to my tough scales that kept me from having some nasty bruises.

As I was about to bring down my wings for the first flap, however, there was a yell and something semi-heavy landed squarely on my back right at the base of my neck.

"What…?" I snarled in surprise, but right at that moment, the cliff collapsed and I was forced to propel myself up just in the nick of time before the heavy rocks buried me. I could still feel the brush of stone against the tip of my tail even as I flew higher and one managed to nail me on the side but I quickly brushed it off. That will be a lovely bruise and I will have to clean out the crushed scales later, but as of now, my life must be preserved.

My heart still pounding after the narrow escape, I risked a glance backward to see what was on my back. What I saw drove me into another shock.

There was the hatchling, clutching his still bleeding right arm but lodged firmly between two of my flat spines. His legs were clasped resolutely against my sides and his eyes told me only one thing, "I'm not letting go."

"Alright then," I growled, turning my head away from the hatchling who'd managed to shock me three times now, just in this day. "You want a challenge, I'll give you one."

Brushing away the last of the panic from the previous near-death moment (is that two times now today?), I snapped out my wings and flew straight up-ward. When I reached a certain height, I turned my body, folded my wings in and dived.

The winds howled in my ears, brushed among my scales, humming a haunting, dangerous song, but it was exhilarating. I ignored the sharp cry torn from the hatchling on my back, the sound snatched away hurriedly by the wind. When we neared the ocean, I waited for a bit before opening my wings again and went into a series of flips and other aerial positions that wasn't even useful in a battle – I did it just because I know it will throw the hatchling off.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. Finally, after half an hour, I stopped the stunts and looked back, half-expecting to see nobody at the base of my neck while the other half…I felt slight uncertainty. But it was ridiculous. He _can't_ have hung on for that wild ride…

And there he was, sitting on my back, his eyes wide open and his fleshy face was green, but he was still _there_. Yes, he looked like he was about to get thrown off – his legs were on one side of me instead of one on each side – and yes, he was looking feverish, and still he hung on. His grey eyes, while a bit blurry with tears coming from the wild winds, were unyielding.

"Please tell me we're done," I heard him mutter suddenly. "I'm about to throw up here." And he seriously looked like he was going to do that.

That made an "Emergency! Must Land!" flare go up in my head. I've seen humans throw up. One of the girls I've chased long ago did just that. She was, what, six? After she ran too hard, she bent over and a stream of foul yellow-green liquid spilled out of her mouth. Human vomit. Never pretty.

"Oh, no, not on _my_ back!" I yelped, diving for the nearest small island to my left, about two miles away from my current location and trying not to think about the yellow-green liquid on my scales. It will take forever to wash it off.

Although nowhere as a match to a Night Fury, Timberjacks can reach reasonable speed when we were really in a hurry. I don't know about the others, but I find the fact that a human was about to _vomit_ on me a very, very important emergency. I covered the distance in five minutes, flying straight and gentle for the sake of my hide's hygiene and made the landing as temperate as possible. The snow helped.

Soon as my legs touched the ground, the hatchling practically fell off and stumbled toward a pine tree nearby, leaning with one hand against it and retched.

I winced as the noises attacked my ears. Even though I wasn't actually the one retching, I could tell from the dry, gruesome sounds that it was _not_ pretty. Striding over to sit down in front of a bunch of extremely large trees, I dropped onto the soft snow and curled up, my head resting in my tail as I watched the hatchling. After what seemed like forever, he stopped the noises and took deep, shaky breaths. Finally, under my alerted eyes, he straightened and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before turning to walk over to me, his steps as unsteady as his breathing.

"Dragon tumbling," he said weakly, stopping to lean against a large rock in the big piles lying around near and between us, "is not made for me." With that, he sank down with his back against the rock behind him and closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing without coughing for awhile.

As he was doing this, I studied him curiously, wondering what I should do now. He was certainly weak enough for me to blast him with a fireball with-out him running around dodging like when we played the hunting game earlier. But this one was…peculiar, to say the least. He was fun, too. A worthy opponent in a game of chase.

No, he wasn't peculiar. He was _different_.

"Maybe I won't kill you yet," I pondered aloud, watching him with amusement. "Maybe I'll keep observing you for a bit before deciding. What harm will it bring?"

The young one's eyes snapped open and he looked at me blearily before the grey marbles cleared out. "I'm not buying the stories where dragons are just dumb animals," he said in a whisper although I could hear it perfectly. "But sometimes I think you folks are _way_ too smart for our good." He glared at the odd look I gave him. "And now you're looking at me like I'm weird or something." The little one stopped to think, his eyes half-lidded. "Well, it doesn't matter one way or another," he gave a huge yawn and struggled onto his feet. "Whatever happens, I'm getting out of here. First I'll have to find some woods for a fire."

The last part was said in a mutter and I watched as he ripped part of his long upper garment, his tunic, out and used it to bandage his right arm with the help of his left hand and his teeth. When it was done, he stalked off into the forest, wobbling the whole way.

As the hatchling disappeared into the trees, I considered following him but I, too, was tired. The chase, the flight and the escapes had gotten a lot out of me than I'd thought and I realized that it was adrenaline that drove me on, not my natural strength.

I thought a bit about the hatchling and the possible wild animals here. Of course, nothing short of a suicidal dozen of grizzly bears would want to attack a tired, cranky dragon. A small human male, however, will make an excellent meal for hungry winter animals if there were some beasts that were still hungry and had not yet gone into hibernation.

_Oh well,_ I yawned hugely as I stood and melted the snow beneath me, vaporizing the liquid as well to leave a big enough patch of dried warm ground for me to sleep on. _Why do I care?_ I like the hatchling, but if he dies and Odin dictates it, what do I have to say against that?

Still, as I settled down, some small parts of me still worried. My exhaustion crushed it down, though. _If the little male had been quick enough to avoid me,_ I reasoned, _then he should have no trouble outrun a bear or anything except for another dragon._ And I'm pretty sure there is no dragon on this island.

I woke to the sound of something like flint stones rubbing against each other and a lot of profanity done in Odin's name. Opening one eye irritably, I spied a figure in black with pale hands that were turning blue rubbing two rocks together about ten meters away from me, out of tail's path and certainly enough for the young child to dodge any fireball I can throw at him but not that I want to.

He was coughing slightly worse now, although he tried to hold it in and there were still violent swearing in between the hacking sounds. The winds were picking up, I realized as I glanced upward and watched as they billowed around the boy's thin frame, making him shiver.

For me, it was all fine. Dragons breathe fire, so naturally there was warm air in our body, and the ground beneath me was still warm. But humans don't. They had only their wits as their natural weapon, and often it was all they needed. Sometimes, though, it just wasn't enough. Like now, here, with a fire that refused to light and a dragoness that had just chased him to the death, given him a feral ride, made him throw up and might very possibly decide to eat him whenever she wants.

Speaking of eating, my stomach growled and I suddenly remembered that I hadn't eaten today at all. It was afternoon by now. I've spent most of the day sleeping, I thought. My eyes, now both opened, turned back to the hatchling who seemed to notice I was looking and twisted his own gray ones to glare at mine.

"I thought you were dead already," he grumbled. "Sleeping like that…Aren't you worried something's going to jump on you?"

_I don't think a skinny human child can cause much lasting damage,_ I thought, but remained quiet and just grunted indifferently. Then I looked at the pile of twigs and branches the hatchling was kneeling by before turning back to him, considering.

Rolling his eyes in which I later noticed as an expression of exasperation, the little one returned to the task at hand. I observed him silently for about five more minutes, but at his fifth cough, I started building up a small amount of gas. A full fireball will probably burn the whole thing to ash.

Taking aim, I released the gas and the tiny ember ball hit the twigs, effectively starting a fire and making the hatchling yell out in alarm, jumping back at and landed on his backside. Luckily, the snow made sure he didn't get any bruise.

He turned narrowed grey eyes on me thoughtfully as he stood up and brushed himself. I looked back innocently. See, all you need to do is ask.

"I don't get it," the hatchling said at length as he settled down on a rock near the fire, facing me. "You have just tried to kill me, made me throw up badly – _real_ badly – and now you're suddenly helping me? Are all dragons this random?"

I have closed my eyes, but at his question, I opened one and looked at him. I gave him a noncommittal grunt before closing it again. Perhaps I can wait until tomorrow to hunt. Well, I could eat the hatchling, but I didn't want to, and I was too tired to get up anyway.

Before I drifted off to sleep again, I heard a slight coughing noise, but it surely was better than the hacking sounds I've heard before. All the while, I could feel the child's grey eyes on me.

Eventually, though, I managed to drift off to sleep.

0o0o0o0o0

I was awakened – again – some time in the night. This time I heard a series of _clickclickclickclick_ sounds that although small, extremely annoying. Opening my eyes yet again, this time even more irritably than before, I zeroed on the source of the obnoxious sound.

It was the hatchling's teeth. He was hugging himself, rubbing his upper arms, his bloodshot eyes wide open, drooping but he seemed like he didn't dare to close them in fear that he might fall asleep. The fire was dying a bit, but even though so, his nose and lips were getting a bit blue.

Groaning in annoyance, I closed my eyes again and tried to sleep. Unfortunately (or fortunately when I thought back of this a long, long time later), the chattering continued until I was forced to snap my eyes open once again to look at the hatchling.

His bloodshot grey eyes rose to met mine for a moment, stubbornness almost breaking. I was fooled into thinking he would actually beg for help. At the last moment, though, he looked away defiantly.

I huffed. Fine. You won't ask, I won't help. I closed my eyes again and put my head into my wing.

The chattering continued, followed by coughs.

Five minutes crept by. And then ten. And then twenty…

_Clickclickclickclickclick_…cough-cough…_Clickclickclickclick_…

"Fine!" I roared in exasperation, making the hatchling jump. Lifting a wing up, I gestured for him to come in with my head. "You win! Come over here and stop that noise!"

Of course, the hatchling couldn't possibly understand me, but he got the general idea and leaped onto his feet, running forward shakily and collapsed thankfully against my warm side. I covered him with a wing and huffed irately.

After awhile, though, the clicking stopped. I huffed and closed my eyes again, curling my head and tail to hide it in my wing as well. The winds were seriously picking up now. I'd rather not risk a cold.

With one last look at the sleeping hatchling's face, I closed my eye and went to sleep again.

* * *

_It was hard to try and twist a cat-and-mouse game to the death into a bonding moment, but I managed it, even though it sucks. _

_Now, I am aware that I hadn't introduced the characters by name yet so far, and that will come in the next chapter. As of now, let me whip up chapter 4._

_Review!_

_~the Apprentice_


	5. Of Names and Songs

_So, chapter 4. Thank you, Spydon, for the awesome reviews you left me. Thank the rest of you, too, for giving me encouragement and keeping this story going!_

_Warning: There is a slight bit of gore in this, so watch out. Not too descriptive, I think. But if you start seeing it a bit too vividly, skip a paragraph._

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**Of Names and Songs**

The next morning found me awakened by the receding cold and a growling in my stomach that refused to go away. I blinked sleepily as I lifted my head, my eyes still close. Oh, that's right, I've put aside hunting in favor of resting yesterday. I remembered only that much for awhile.

My head was halfway out of my wing before my snout bumped into something, drawing a yelp, a shout and then what sounded like a vermin trying to squirm away from me, something stepping slightly on my tail, ended in ragged breathing.

Now I finally opened my eyes and blinked blurrily at a petite black figure scrambling back away from my reach. Wary grey eyes stared at my tail like they expected it to come swooping at them any moment. Which was reasonable. Humans and dragons are born to attack and kill, right?

As events of the night before came back, I answered the little one's glare lazily. Like it would do any good to me or him. It would only waste time, so I broke the staring semi-contest first and got up to stretch. Emitting a huge yawn, I started trotting toward the forest. Time for breakfast.

The small snowstorm yesterday had left a rather large amount of the fluffy Hel's pawn that is called snow lying around. I flicked the thing off of my feet as I walked by, a combination of an empty stomach and snow making my mood go sour quickly and I wanted to snap.

"Where are you going?" the hatchling's voice asked from behind me. He still hadn't gotten any closer judging by the distance. I didn't acknowledge him, instead favoring my grumbling stomach and dived into the tree, sniffing around for a prey.

I caught the scent of a mule about half a mile away and growled triumphantly. Glancing backward, I saw the hatchling shifted on his feet, hesitant. He put one foot out toward me, but then took it back. He met my gaze once again, a question hanging in the air.

Snorting, I turned around and bounced off. I don't need another prey chased away by an irritating little human child. One time is enough for a day, thank you. This time is serious. I have to eat _now_. I have gone for a bit too long without foods.

Slinking in the forest as stealthily as I could even when my mouth was starting to water, I quickly covered the distance, and when the mule came into sight, I dropped lower, my underside almost brushing against the snow and depended completely on my scales to hide.

I crept closer, stopping only a few times when the animal, a large male with a rather impressive set of horns on his head and lots of meat on his bones, lifted its head to look around worriedly.

Finally, when I was in pouncing distance, I tensed. The mule had not lifted its head again. I waited for it to wander toward me, its eyes locked on a patch of yellowed grass. Just a bit closer. Yes, that's it. Another foot. Yes, yes.

With a triumphant roar, I jumped the animal, pinning it down on the snow by my powerful claws and thrust my sharp teeth into its neck, crushing sinews, windpipe and nerves. Hot, bliss and sweet blood rushed into my mouth, making me whine pathetically at the pleasure. Finally. I've never tasted a mule as good as this one.

The animal kicked feebly twice before he went still. I didn't even wait for him to die. By the time he'd stopped kicking, I've already torn apart his flank and was eagerly devouring the chewy, delicious meat underneath the fur. Tearing into the flesh, I didn't stop at the bones, instead lapping all of them into my mouth and crushed them easily with my hard teeth. The crunching noises were more satisfying than a decent chase.

When I was finished, there was nothing left but some bones, hard hooves, fur and a stretch of snow painted crimson. Sitting back on my haunches, I sighed in pleasure. Ah, now _that_ was a meal. Using my tongue, I cleaned out the meat between my teeth and turned my eyes upward to look at the sky idly. The snow had stopped falling already, perhaps since last night, perhaps just now. I've been too hungry to care.

After I was done getting over the meal, I stood up again, suddenly feeling more energetic than I had since yesterday. Perhaps I should go for a flight. As long as I don't do dives, there's nothing to worry about my stomach. Digestion problems aren't numerous among dragons. I guess it has something to do with the fact that we eat anything and everything in sight.

"Eat the food or be the food, huh?" I said to myself merrily, quoting Lavabreath as I turned to go. Maybe another rabbit or two will do. My belly was still a bit empty. "That old dragon; does he miss anything?" I stopped to find the scent of anything else in the area I could gnaw on and came upon a grizzly bear's a quarter of a mile away and a deer roughly a mile to my left in addition to several other small critters; foxes, rabbits, squirrels and birds.

Thinking a bit, I finally decided on the foxes close by and took off in that direction. It might be a long time before I can hunt anywhere near as free as here. This island wasn't inhabited by humans as far as I can tell. I and the little hatchling were the only sentiments being on this piece of earth sticking out of the ocean, most likely.

Ah, speaking of the little one.

"I hope he has something to eat," I muttered, scanning the ground. "Humans are _so_ fragile. Leave them hungry for a week and they die on their feet." The fox den was growing closer, so I fell silence although I didn't care about my footsteps. The soft snow was masking it. Winter's one and only benefit for me.

* * *

Two hours later, I had added six bunnies, one big and fluffy rabbit, two foxes, their three cubs and a bear cub that I dragged away from its hibernating mother to the mule in my belly. Carrying two dangling dead foxes in my jaw by the tails, I cantered cheerfully back to the clearing where we – I mean _I_ – have landed yesterday.

The foxes were for the hatchling. I had mulled over it for awhile after I was done flushing the two critters out of their den and decided it was best to keep him alive. I have decided to spare him in the first place, so might as well go along with it.

When I was back into the clearing, however, I was greeted with the smell of burnt fish and a satisfied-looking hatchling sitting near a bonfire, holding two fish-on-a-sticks close to the flame, roasting them. His teeth were already clamped around a fat fish as he turned the two cooking near the fire, and he was grinning through the food in his mouth.

Upon seeing me, however, the smile disappeared and the little one quickly got onto his feet, his eyes distrustful again. He didn't let go of the fish in his mouth to talk, though, and I chuckled softly. The sight was funny, somehow. _So the foxes were unnecessary,_ I thought as I settled down near the woods again, careful to keep the distance between I and the hatchling to show him that I mean no harm.

The hatchling remained standing for awhile, his mouth still clamped around the fish, but then he realized I wasn't there to eat him. With a fair amount of uneasiness, he lowered himself down onto a rock again, his grey eyes not leaving me. I spied a pointy stick just within his reach.

Oh, wow. Fight a dragon with a stick. Smart. _Real_ smart.

I gulped down the two foxes quickly and discovered that I was a bit too full, but I didn't exactly care. Curling up on myself, I purred contentedly and closed my eyes, intending to rest a bit. The day has been good. After all, it was only midday. The sky was clearing again. What can possibly go wrong?

Alright, so there's a human child with a pointy stick. Big deal.

"Funny how the rest of the kids in Death Rock told me I would be eaten the moment I had a dragon on my heels," the hatchling's voice said suddenly, making me open my eyes to look at him curiously. He was smirking bitterly and tossing a _cleaned_ fishbone into the fire. _Whoa, talk about hungry._

"And yet here I am," he continued, looking into my eyes, his distrust still there but covered by curiosity. "With you, and I still had all my limbs intact." He winced, putting a hand over his bandaged arm. "Well, most of me."

_You could have been dead by now had you given up just a few seconds before the cliff,_ I thought, but said nothing. Why speak a language this human can't understand? Instead, I just went on looking at him.

"We can leave soon," he told me next, glancing skyward for a second before reverting back to me. The child was _afraid_ – as he should be, but it made me…troubled, somehow. "The sky is clear. I can hitch a boat ride – I left a small boat here on my last visit – but it might be two days before I reach Death Rock again, and then there's the Loki's Field."

It took me a second to recognize what he was talking about. "Loki's Field" was the treacherous rocks that surrounded most of Death Rock. They scraped against ships' bottoms when the tides pulled out and sent most invading ships to their deaths. The rocks are extremely narrow, so even a small boat will have a bit of trouble.

But that wasn't an excuse to worry about. Vikings are good sailors, and since this was their offspring, he should have at least have fair sailing skills –

The screwed look on his face spoke otherwise.

"I'm so dead," the little one said miserably, reaching for one of his two fish and chewed slowly. "I should've paid more attention to the sailing lessons," he said in a small whisper, but my ears caught it perfectly. I suddenly understood his problem. Ah, so somebody is a loser at sailing?

We lapse into silence after this. I was thinking. It would be more than easy for me to fly back inland in under an hour and I certain can carry this scrawny human with me. But then there was a part of me that was roaring furiously and demanding exactly _what in the love of Odin_ was I thinking when I even considered letting the human ride me. I wasn't a glorified donkey, now am I?

No, I am not. I'm not bound to anybody but the ones I choose, and there was no fate written out for me. I make my own luck. I don't live up to anyone's expectations but my own.

But is it too much to do for an act of kindness?

I watched as the hatchling, once again, cleaned the fishbone in his hunger. Innards, brain, eyes…they all disappeared down his throat. He really was ravenous. I was rather surprised he'd eaten so much, after that vomiting episode just yesterday. The image of that liquid could make me feel woozy for days afterward.

When the hatchling was done, he got off the stone and sat facing the fire, a comfortable smile on his lips. Rubbing his hands together and holding them out toward the fire, he didn't look at me anymore. After a minute, however, grey eyes returned to drill into mine. Gods, this one just loves staring dragons down, no?

"I don't suppose you have a name?" he asked me.

"Hell yeah I do," I grumbled, bobbing my head in a nod, the way humans used to indicate that they understand – or at least I think that's the right gesture.

Apparently it was, because the hatchling perked up in interest after he stared at me in silent shock for about fifteen seconds. "Yeah? What…oh, wait, never mind," he slapped his palm against his forehead. "I can't understand you. But you get what I'm saying, right?"

I nodded again. This conversation wasn't annoying me, to my surprise, now that I'm full, warm and not sleepy. The hatchling wasn't asking dumb questions either. Well, he almost had – asking for the name from a dragon who could only growl and snarl for answers wouldn't be that smart. He couldn't even pronounce my name right, and I can't tell him my name, Winter (blame my dam for that; she loves the season), in his own tongue. We were too different.

"That's great," the hatchling was muttering again, pulling me out of my thought. He poked the fire with the stick where one of the fish was previously skewered with. "But at least now I know why Hooker got himself set on fire by that Gronkle. Apparently they don't like humans calling them 'roudish little balls too fat to walk properly'."

He chuckled at his own words, seeming to have forgotten that he wasn't alone. But then he turned and glance at me again. "You are a dragoness?" he asked.

Cocking my head in mild surprise, I nodded slowly. Why would he care?

"I'll call you Tempest," he said, smiling slightly. "I'm Sweyn, but I don't think you'd care." The last came out slightly bitterly. Puzzling, I thought as I watched him, amused. _Tempest,_ huh? Well, it could have been worse. It certainly could have been much worse. Besides, it might serve as a nickname for me. Yes, it was slightly offending that I let a human name me, but I argued with myself that I already had a name and this little one (Sweyn; what a weird name) was just making up one that he could actually speak.

Sweyn gave me one last slightly-less-wary look before turning back to the fire, stoking it and started emitting a low humming from his throat. It was a tune. A human tune. I've heard humans sing before when they sailed their boats close to our mountains and the songs about penguins and humpback wells plus dragon heads always made me cringe. Some hot-tempered dragons even went so far as to blast at the ships until they shut up or shove some rocks down on the wailing abominations. I was too lazy to do that most of the time, so I resorted to wounding myself up tight in my nest and sit with it. Tolerance was one of my best (or worse, depends on you look at it) quality.

I was halfway up onto my feet to go anywhere but here (oh, please, spare me the horrible noises!) before the humming really sank in. It was a sad tune, like one we used to hum when a dragon ceased to exist. We didn't do that much anymore – every week there was one or two who would die – but the melody was almost the same, except it was done in a human voice.

The song had stopped as soon as I moved, and grey eyes locked on me again, narrowed slightly. Sweyn was shifting, but his hand hadn't gone to his pointy stick yet. When I settled down again and made myself comfortable, the humming resumed. The child waited a bit more before he finally turned his eyes away, back to the fire.

For the next half hour, I listened to the haunting melody as I tried my best not to grow irritable at the glances Sweyn (a hiss at the beginning, slight cluck of the tongue at the end - not that hard for a dragon) kept throwing at me. I am not going to eat you, you meat bag. Why can't you understand that?

The tune finally ended once and for all in two quick hopeful notes instead of the sorrowful notes we dragons often sang. With that, Sweyn glanced at me one more time before starting to sing with words.

I groaned as soon as I heard "There was once a beautiful penguin who fell in love with a handsome whale" and tucked my head into my wing. In that confinement, I thought I heard a sound of laughter.

* * *

_Is this a bit too rushed? Tell me in a review, please._

_Sweyn: young lad - search for it on wikipedia dot org. You'll find the meaning. _

_Tempest: snowstorm or blizzard - Tempest's scales are snowy white with black stripes._

_~the Apprentice_


	6. Hurried Return

**Hurried Return**

Afternoon came as the hatchling, Sweyn, wasted away the time with a bunch of Viking songs that, surprisingly, had nothing to do with gutted dragons or shattered eggs. They were a series of old, soothing songs that I have never heard of before. Well, not by the Viking ships that sailed under our mountains, anyway.

Ending another cheerful song, Sweyn suddenly glanced upward at the purpling sky. "It's getting dark," he remarked, his voice still a normal volume despite all the singing he'd been doing. He appeared to think for awhile before shrugging and stoking the fire again. It wasn't as if he needed to worry about it going out. I will help if only he'd _asked_.

Which he hadn't. I'd let him lend the warmth yesterday to stop the annoying chattering sound his teeth made because of the cold and maybe – just maybe – because I feel sympathetic for him. I brought back the foxes earlier out of the goodness of my heart. He'd asked for nothing from me.

I could guess why, but I didn't think he'd been this distrustful.

"Why didn't you fly away earlier?" Sweyn suddenly asked. I looked at him with one eye. "I mean, you could've left whenever you want, right? You can _fly_." A pause issued as the child seemed to be prepared to say something else, but in the end, he only closed his mouth and looked at the fire again.

I waited. He said nothing.

Sighing, I shifted into a more comfortable position and turned my eyes to the sky. It was going to be dark soon. Winter will make daylight so much shorter, and it will be like this for another six months. I thought about going hunting again, but I was already full and I don't often kill for the fun of it – well, save for some humans who outright challenged or had the bad luck of running into me.

Except for this one.

I returned to the train of thought from earlier about whether I would let the hatchling hitch a ride home with me or not. Being ridden like a glorified donkey – I don't want that. But it wasn't like anybody was here to watch, and I myself don't mind. As long as the hatchling dismounts properly when we touch down and doesn't throw up on me, I'll be fine.

That was as far as I got, however, before a small but definite _crack_ came from the dark woods to my left. My gaze shot toward the hatchling; he was still moodily poking the fire. He'd heard nothing. I slowly turned my head to the direction of the sound. In the dark, I could see two yellow orbs glaring at me hungrily and a large outline. The rest was hidden in the shadows.

At first, there was silence except for the sound of the fire and the branch Sweyn was using to stoke it. Then a gust of wind rustled the trees and sent the hatchling into a fit of shivering and slight coughing. I tried to fight the urge to glance at him and concentrated on the noise, closing my eyes.

Sure enough, there was an impossibly soft growl, but it _was_ there, and it _was_ a growl. My eyes snapped open and I perked up, building gas quickly in my mouth before launching it in the direction where the sounds had come from, drawing a yelp from Sweyn. I pointedly ignored him as the fireball lit the woods, allowing me a brief image of a light gray four-legged figure that was impossibly big. The flame shone on its bared fangs before it hit the creature head on, drawing out a pained howl from the beast as the fire seared through flesh.

"Wolves," I heard Sweyn breathe, but I didn't turn to look at him. My gaze was locked on the bunch of writhing fur sixteen feet away from us, set alight with my fire. It sure looked like a wolf, but wolves can't be this big. This one was easily as high as the hatchling, and _he_ stood only three inches beneath my shoulder.

There were suddenly howls all around us. I felt Sweyn pressed himself against my right flank and heard his heartbeats quickening, his fear-scent wafting off slightly.

It was all the warnings we got before the howls turned into snarls and shadows leaped out at us from the forest. One went for my leg and I felt a tolerable pressure against the scales of my leg. Not looking, I snapped my fangs into the silver fur in my vision, sinking them deep into its throat and shook it several times before tossing it away.

Another one jumped onto my back, but before I could shake it off, there was a howl of pain and the beast's hold slackened. Another shove, another yelp and the thing was off.

Surprised, I swung my head around to look into Sweyn's frightened but determined grey eyes, reflected by the camp fire behind him, making them shine an eerie color. In his hands was the pointy stick he'd had as his defense earlier, stained crimson red. _Impressive,_ I noted as I saw another of the huge wolves bounding toward us from behind the hatchling. Using the tip of my sharpened tail, I slammed it against the head and heard the satisfying cracking of the beast's skull.

A flitting blur ducked past under my view and launched straight for the hatchling's turned back. I can do nothing before another one pounced on my head, clawing at my eye and forcing me to fire a blind blast. My nose filled with the smell of burnt fur before I could toss the damn thing aside and arched my neck to see the hatchling.

He was pinned to the ground, the wolf towering over him with his makeshift weapon locked in its mouth. Sweyn's teeth were gritted and it appeared he was losing, but with a yell, he bent his legs to his chest and kicked hard.

That got the wolf off. I clamped my teeth against its head, feeling bitter blood against my tongue as I crushed its skull before throwing it aside. Then I turned to check on the hatchling to find him getting shakily onto his feet, his fear-scent now etched in the air and forced calm in his eyes, but he still gripped his weapon tightly and looked to the side for another attack.

Something beat against the left side of my body. I swung my tail around and thrust blindly until I felt it sinking into flesh and pulled back. Growls now turned to yelps as crimson quickly died the snow and we moved closer toward the fire.

Picking up some lit branches with shaky hands, the hatchling looked around frantically before tossing it toward a wolf. It landed smack in the face of the target and effectively sent it scuttling backward fast. That was all I could watch, however, before I was forced to expand my right wing and felt it cut through the soft stomach of a wolf that had tried to jump me.

I felt something scrambling onto my back and bent my neck to blast it with a fireball when I saw the large, fearful gray eyes looking at me. "Tempest, fly!" Sweyn shouted, clutching at a spine tightly.

No arguments were thrown. I extended my wings, shook off the last two giant wolves who'd managed to scratch my scales (thank Odin for making us dragons as we are), took a short running start before shooting upward.

There was a sharp pain in my tail as I left the ground, however, and I shook myself in attempt to get rid of it. The pain only intensified.

"A wolf's hanging off your tail by the teeth!" the hatchling shouted suddenly.

Oh.

"Whoops! It's creeping up here! What kind of in-wolf-ly hybrid is this?"

The pain in my tail left, but there were many itching pinpricks walking up my spine. On the outside.

I roared a warning before spinning several times. I only hoped I dislodged the right passenger and he gets the notice. After two minutes, I stopped and righted myself again.

"Hatchling?" I growled nervously, chancing a look backward.

There he was, firmly between my two spines at the base of my neck as he has been before, smiling weakly, was the hatchling. Behind him, there was no wolf.

At the same time, I could hear a loud sound of something heavy having impacted with water on the ocean below. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned away again before I could lose control. We were flying toward Death Rock now, steadily. Base on my estimation, it would take about half an hour for me to reach it, but then I would have to toss the hatchling off somewhere. Certainly not our mountain or anywhere nears our region. The hatchling was bleeding, and I can't guarantee there were no bored dragons wandering around looking for a snack.

So as I reached the Loki's Ground, I veered off sharply to the left, closer to the human dwellings. As I flew over the forest, I could see dots of glowing orange throughout the area on the human's side of the land. Looks like the little one has a search party out to get him.

"Wow, they're actually _looking_ for me," I heard the hatchling say, his voice oozing sarcasm. "I can't believe a good-for-nothing runaway piece of crap like me worth _so-o-o-o_ much." I blinked in surprise at his tone, but I knew it wasn't directed at me, so I ignored it.

Choosing a careful location where the little dots of light hadn't reached yet but still close enough for the hatchling to go find help, I folded my wings and dropped onto the ground. Landing with enough noise to shake the earth (although the brunt of the fall was taken a bit by the snow), I bent my head to look at my passenger.

Obviously reluctant, the hatchling climbed off, supported by the tip of my tail, which I had curled up to use as a stepping stool and landed on the ground firmly on his feet. With a deep sigh, his shoulders drooped as shouts closed in. The humans have heard my little landing. The torches could be seen now, through the thick, snow-covered tree.

The hatchling turned to look at me in the eyes, regret on his face. "Well, I don't know what to say," he began hesitantly. "You tried to kill me, I landed on you, you made me throw up, and then we had some sort of peace treaty. Just now we fought off a bunch of freaky wolves and suddenly, here we are."

Awkward silence.

"But it was fun," the hatchling said suddenly, a small smile on his fleshy face. In the moonlight, he looked tattered and scarred. Cuts lined his cheeks and his garments. He smelled like fish. The cut on his arm – which, strangely, made me feel guilty when I looked at it – was bleeding through its makeshift bandage. All in all, he was a sore sight.

The shouts were getting closer. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the lights rushing toward us. Already, there were yells for weapons and alerts. "So, uh, see you later?" Sweyn asked uncertainly.

I growled an agreement, and with one last look at the penetrating grey eyes, I turned and slinked back into the woods, running away quickly before any human could truly spot me.

0o0o0o0o0

I was greeted with a greatly amused Lavabreath as I landed in my nest two hours later. It was not yet late, but it was growing cold, and to my surprise, my nest hadn't been turned into a snow pile yet. The Blood-Drinker was poking his head out from behind a pillar, yellow eyes watching me, interested.

"So, fledging," he said in that scratchy tone of his, "if I may ask, where have you been these past two days?"

"It's only one day," I huffed, settling down to clean my wounds. None of them were anywhere near critical. Some pulled-out scales, bruises, bites…they will all heal given enough time.

Silence.

"I went adventuring," I growled in exasperation at last, pointedly ignoring the peculiar look Lavabreath was giving me.

"Adventuring, hm?" he mused. "Care to tell me where exactly?"

"An island north of here. This," I gestured toward the wounds with my snout, "is caused by a pack of lovely oversized wild dogs."

Lavabreath looked at the injuries. "Ah, the Tribal Wolves," he nodded sagely. "They are the largest wild dogs in existence and had not yet been tamed by humans. How big are they?"

"Same height as the hatch – I mean, same height as my shoulder," I paused. "Perhaps some inches shorter."

Lavabreath gave me a skeptical look, but to my thankfulness, he asked no more. Instead, he retreated so that I could no longer see him. "Well, get those cleaned, fledging," he said. "We wouldn't want you to get ill. Now, good night."

That was the end of that.

* * *

_I have a bedtime curfew. Sorry, I just can't resist. Now, enjoy while I shut down my computer super fast before my folks start yelling._

_~the Apprentice_


	7. To Think Things Through

_Been two days since my last update, but I needed the time. So, after three crappy half-draft and a lot of brainstorming, I finally came up with a plot that works and a new chapter. I won't hold you any longer. Go ahead and read it. Remember, reviews are really loved, good or bad._

* * *

**To Think Things Through**

I wouldn't see the hatchling – Sweyn – again for quite some time after that little misadventure to the Island of the Tribal Wolves. The reason was mostly because all creatures on Death Rock were placed under house arrest by a huge blizzard that stretched on for a week. But the other part, the one that was important, however, was because I needed time to think.

Everything happened too fast. I didn't even notice that we were truly gone for two days and one night. Time ran together like thick honey. The chase, the cliff, the flight and then the island – they all seemed like they had only taken a few hours, not a day. Not two day.

And that hatchling. He wasn't the type to turn his back on just about anyone, it seems. He was too distrustful for that. Sure, he has grown some-what more comfortable with me over the course of that two days, but his distance was alarmingly large. However, seeing as I am a dragon and he is a human, that is understandable. It was the bitterness he showed toward his own kind that I didn't quite get.

I've done enough sneaking around the humans to know that they expressed their love in alien ways. A punch in the arm that probably left a beautiful bruise to tell somebody "good job", grabbing each other and squeeze like there was no tomorrow (years and years and _years_ later I learned it was called a hug – how in the name of all the merciful gods is that an expression of love?) to say "oh, I love you" instead of getting something peculiar to give it to that person, or, in some case, clonked each other on the head to express relief and gratitude at seeing the other one alive. So _strange_. These wimpy two-legs were just…beyond my comprehension sometimes.

But the hostility in the hatchling's voice – it was real. He didn't hate his people. He _loathed_ them. He wasn't joking when he said those things. He despised his kins for some reason that I might never find out. Looking back on his hard-to-sway nature, though, I wondered if he was born that way or the other humans have _morphed_ him that way.

He was also…peculiar, if you put it nicely. I've had expectations of him when we started that chase, and none of them were right. He didn't come back for one last suicide attack before I gutted him like I thought he would, he didn't give up even when he was facing the cliff when I thought he would either. Of course, I never expected him to actually have the wits to ride me. But it happened. That child proved again and again that he wasn't what I thought he would be.

And I prided myself for my predicting skills to have a human hatchling proves me wrong. Bah.

I stared up at the mountaintop's vast opening melancholy. The blizzard did not seem to be willing to give just yet. I was tired of old foods that was starting to smell, of the heat and crowded feelings of this mountain even though it indeed kept us warm. I longed for the sky, longed for the winds between my scales. Fresh blood, flesh and crunchy bones. The scent of snow and that crushed pine-needle scent that associated with the forest.

I wasn't sure I was ready to face Sweyn again just yet, though. My feelings to him were still so clouded. Impressed, yes, interested, yes, curious – definitely a yes. But eager? I am not so sure. I doubt he would want to see me again after that terrifying chase or those two nights.

But that hatchling was just plain _fascinating_. Dissecting his mind and motives would be a good way to waste away time. I've always found thinking an appealing sport. Exhausting, but appealing. And after all, it has been such a long time since I got something I didn't quite understand this much.

And so, that was how I burned time as the nuisance of a blizzard placed us under nest arrest for the entire week. Eat, exercise wings for a bit, lie down, then think. When done thinking, eat one more time, exercise, think till sleep. Repeat.

"I was starting to think the Tribal Wolves ate some of your brain, fledging," Lavabreath had commented once, but I didn't hear all of it. I was too deep in another bout of musing to mind him.

By the time the blizzard stops, I was led into believe that half of the nest thought I've gone nuts.

0o0o0o0o0

On Freya's Day in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of excited chatters and the sounds of flapping wings and happy roars. Blinking my eyes opened, I could hear a few words through the remnants of the fog in my mind:

"Blizzard's over…"

"Some humans in the woods…"

"Deer were still on the island…"

"…food…"

My head perked up at that. "Food!" I said happily, standing up straight and nearly knocking my head against the stone roof over my nest. Actually, I did. Well, just a bit.

"C'mon, Winter!" a voice called cheerfully and a brown-green male Timberjack popped into sight. Windstriker, a friend of mine. We were not as close as, uh, will-be mates and he'd never tried to court me before, but we were not born to the same dam. He'd been a good hunting partner for years now, but since he started getting moony-eyed for the other dragonesses, our distance had grown. "There won't be any foods left if you're slow!"

"Watch me," I growled back playfully and ducked out of the nest to rise into the air with him. Flying parallel to him but not sideway (there is no way that mountain could fit the wingspan of two Timberjacks, young or not), we exited the mountain and caught the same current to glide toward the hunting ground below. I angled to the western woods, closer to the human colony than the others want to go. No dragon wants to stir up trouble with the humans when not in battle, but it would mean less competitions.

Windstriker broke off with me halfway there as he angled toward a group of still-single female Timberjacks. I snorted but let him be. Choosing a mate was his choice, not mine. If he so wishes, he could do whatever he wants.

"Don't lay eggs until spring!" I roared to Windstriker as he started breaking away.

"Don't mate until I get news!" Windstriker roared back cheerfully before he was completely gone. Sighing, I snapped out my wings to hover a bit before quickly folding them in to land. When I was on the ground, I proceeded to try and detect something edible from the lands. Praying to Thor that I wouldn't have to eat fish this time, I sniffed around for foods.

About half an hour later, I finally came to three brown bears in a fairly large cave. One was twice the size of the human hatchling and the other two were growing-up cubs. My mouth watered as I heard their soft breathings. This is going to be one heck of a meal.

I shot my head into the den and bit one of the cubs' necks. It let out only a small squeal of pain before I dragged it out, clamping my fangs down tighter to end its life and feeling sweet hot blood rushing into my mouth. Swallowing the life juice with great pleasure, I turned to trot away from the den to finish my meal. This little one would not be enough, but I decided to spare the mother and the other cub.

Quickly, I found a clearing and dropped the carcass down before tearing it apart with my teeth and claws. Pieces of flesh ripped beneath the force as I ate through the livers, stomach and everything else I found edible in that body. Finally, when the ribcage had been cleaned thoroughly, I moved on to the head, the brain. It was always the best treat. All Timberjacks like brains.

Latching my fang into one side of the prey's head, I snapped down and then drew back, tearing apart that side of the entire head to reveal the flesh and the cracked skull inside. The thing's brain was fairly small to my disappointment, but it will have to do. With eagerness, I sucked it up quickly and then moved to eat whatever meat I could from the head.

When I was done, there was nothing left but a lot of bear pelts, white bones with a few pieces of meat stuck on it, a cracked head and a lot of blood on the pure white snow. Licking my snout in contentment, I nodded, satisfied. My stomach thought otherwise, though. It growled loudly, asking for more.

Turning away from the mess of blood and leftovers, I bounced off happily. Although I was nowhere near full, that had quenched my thirst somewhat. The rest will be for the little Terrors. I held no grudge against the tiny things as do the others if they eat my leftovers; they were just annoying when they were trying to get too close to me to steal my foods when I'm not done yet. I think I've made my point to wait until I finish before going in after nearly skewering sixteen of the little buggers.

I spotted a reindeer not too far from my current location and turned to it. There was no dragon in range; they didn't like coming this close to the village, but I wasn't. Let the humans shout. Let them try to catch me. Who can catch a dragoness that can cut through even iron with only her tail?

0o0o0o0o0

The hunt was the most successful I've had in, well, a week. In term of gained preys, at least. I toyed around with the preys I chased, letting them exhaust themselves first before going in for the kill. They were even half as exciting as the chase Sweyn had given me. Reindeers don't duck. They don't even try to dodge when my tail came down on them. And they tired so _quickly_.

_No fun,_ I thought gloomily as I bit into the flesh of the third deer I've been chasing. I need some actions around here. The dragon population is sinking into boredom-land. Everybody was so focused on getting fresh foods that they didn't want any games. What am I suppose to do now? Go pick a fight with somebody?

No, I don't want a fight. I want a _game_. A chasing game. Well, I could detect several humans around me, but none of them can do what I would've liked them to do. I want a real chase, one where the hunted doesn't give up when he sees a distant dead end coming.

I want a game where there was a possibility that I could _lose_. These humans will just give up as soon as they saw an end to the road they were taking or they knew they wouldn't make it and chose death as a way out. How boring his that?

As I thought about this, the realization suddenly hits me. I have lost that chase to the hatchling. Down to the last minute, I have never actually caught him. I've pushed him to a dead end, yes, but I've never truly won. He's found a way down that cliff and to safety. I've left him to go free after that.

Even though it was my own choice to do what I did, I really _lost_ to the human child.

"You eatin' the deer, lady?" a voice suddenly asked somewhere near my feet and distracted me from my thoughts. I glanced down to see a green Terror watching me with begging eyes. Behind him was another horde of the little fellows who all looked hungry.

My stomach didn't complain anymore. I dropped the kill in front of them. "Have it all," I said before shooting off into the woods. I still heard the thankful high-pitched squeals ringing in my ears as I sped away from the starving things. My mind was too fuzzy right then to really care, though. There was an odd feeling about that realization.

I needed time and somewhere quiet to think. I was full, after all, and I am definitely not going back to the nest. It was like a howling contest of two Monstrous Nightmares when they were competing for a mate. And believe me when I say this, I'd rather hear Sweyn and his songs of penguins and reindeers than those red devils _shriek_ like Ragnarok was descending from the heavens – for the lack of a better term.

After a few rounds around the forest and absently avoiding the humans who'd gone hunting (imagine their shock when they found only carcasses around the forest), I decided on the valley where the hatchling had tossed his coat in it to distract me from his real direction. If there was any dragon there, I was ready to throw a fight to have the entire valley to myself. I was itching for some fire-shooting after all.

To my surprise, the vast valley was empty. There was nothing there; no bird, no deer, nothing except trees, stone, the huge aspen with a gray shadow sitting underneath and the frozen pond.

Wait. Zooming back to the aspen tree…

I approached closer, purring questioningly. The smell of crushed pine needles was hanging in the air, however faint it was. A mob of black hair topped a narrow face and a large fur coat that extended almost to his knees. One of the two black-gloved hands was pointing toward the gray sky, tracing something invisible that only the little human under the tree could see.

As I came even closer, alarmed, livid grey eyes suddenly snapped down to meet mine and the creature's mouth opened to produce a sound. Nothing came, though. It just hangs open for awhile.

We stared at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't know how I should feel or what I should do at that time. Nothing makes sense anymore. My mind was a whirling mass of different thoughts, none clear enough to be coherent. Finally, the mouth twisted into a comical mix of a wry smile and an expression of gritted teeth.

"Tempest," Sweyn said, his voice somewhere in the middle of shock, relief and a little twirl of fear.

* * *

_The good news: I was really getting into Tempest's role. The story comes easy from a dragon's point of view to me and her ponderings were actually my own as I watched my fellow humans mill around and live day by day. The bad news: I was getting **too** much into her point of view. The next thing I know, I'll be calling my friend "hatchling". I pray that it wouldn't happen until I finish with this story._

_Now, I wasn't sure about Tempest's reaction to seeing Sweyn again either. She can either eat him, accept him, force him to give her another game of chase or something else...The possibilities are endless. Hm, the first sounds good, though... _

_Review, please. Thank you for reading._

_~the Apprentice_


	8. Touch Me: I Dare You

_I suppose we all remember the touching scene in the movie where Toothless lets Hiccup touch him? Well, this is a recreation of that scene. However, throw away all the urges to say "Aw!" because there's not going to be any "aw" around here. Tempest is not a glorified kitten. She is a nineteen-feet-long eleven-feet-high brain eater. Never forget that._

_As of now, enjoy._

* * *

**Touch Me; I Dare You**

I stared. He stared. We both stared for what could be described as an eternity.

The hatchling's eyes were shining with wariness, although it was blanketed with a strange desperation that I would only find out later what it was and he did not move from his sitting position under the aspen tree. I waited for him to make the first move, but after a few minutes of only staring at my eyes with a questioning look, I was forced to act first.

Slowly, I stalked toward him, keeping my head high and my wings folded tightly to show him that I meant no harm. Sweyn visibly tensed, but when I stopped at the edge of the lake which stood between us, he relaxed again. His gaze shifted toward the body of water, probably judging the possibility that I might jump or glide over it to get to him before his grey eyes turned skyward again. Of course, he was ever cautious to give me a warning look before doing so. As he lifted his right sleeve, I saw a flash of metal hidden in it.

I contemplated the thought of rounding the lake, but that would probably send the hatchling running before I even lifted my foot for the second time. Looking at him with a huff of exasperation at his distrustfulness, I settled on the other side of lake and curled up so my right eye could watch Sweyn.

He had started to trace invisible lines in the air again and seemed contented to do that for who-knows-how-longer. His lips were moving silently, but I wasn't used to human lips-reading since deafness was unheard of among dragons, and besides, we worry more about the arms and the legs that can knock a few teeth out of our mouths. I decided to focus on his gloved finger as it dances through the cold air, drawing shapes that looked like circles and then squares before they were wounded together.

When it finally started to get boring and I was thinking about tackling the little one (newly-earned half-trust be damned), he spoke. "I didn't expect to see you again," Sweyn mused in a low voice, grey marbles reverting back to stare straight at me. Dragons usually don't enjoy eye contact and humans know that this could anger us, but either Sweyn does not know or he does not care. Perhaps it was the latter. He didn't strike me as the type to use common sense.

I growled in agreement. Neither did I. Not so soon. Not like this. I've pictured our next meeting to be in another raid, to see him on the rooftop again with that same expression he'd worn before. I certainly didn't expect him in the wood again, alone and in the open. This hatchling was practically wagging his finger with a grin in front of Death's face.

Or maybe he was. Who knows?

"Well," the hatchling paused for a long while. "Since…we've made it clear that you're not going to eat me when I come within striking distance…can we make some sort of peace?"

At that, I snorted. I already have made my peace, human. It's _you_ who had yet to trust me.

The hatchling seemed to be able to pick it up – good, he wasn't as dense as his folks – and suddenly smiled almost sheepishly. He studied my eye thoroughly for a few minutes before setting his jaws and slowly stood and seemed to want to walk forward, to go around the pond. He hesitated as soon as I lifted my head slightly, however. He was waiting for my permission.

I thought about it. The hatchling had purposefully or accidentally warned me that he had weapons on him, and most of them were probably hidden, but they were there nonetheless. Already, I could smell the tint of metal on him and I used my tail to gesture to his sleeve where the flash of steel was seen before, hoping he'd get the message.

He did. Of course, it didn't mean he was going to do it enthusiastically or even the least willingly. Rolling his eyes, the hatchling flicked his wrist slightly and a leather pommel fell into his hand. He tossed the thing aside, far from his reach and looked at me again.

I sniffed the air once more and still found the metallic scent on the hatchling. Using my tail again, I gestured toward his other sleeve, his boots and his waist, where the scent was the strongest. The hatchling followed my movements and then looked at me, exasperated.

"The next thing I know, you'll be asking me to take all my clothes off," he muttered but obliged, albeit very reluctantly. I looked at him with apathy. Either you leave all those pointy sticks of death behind or stand there and stare, hatchling. Your choice all the way.

I watched as he tossed out three more daggers hidden in his boots and sleeves, but didn't do anything about the metallic scent that wafted from his waste. "I have a knife on my belt," Sweyn said firmly, "and with this coat on, I can't get it quickly. I'm not going to a Timberjack with _scales_ that can cut through thick fabric unarmed." He glanced warily at my tail that glinted in the weak sunlight for emphasis.

That sounded about fair. I lied my head down and let him advance. One knife against me is nothing.

As he moved closer and closer to me, I saw more hesitation in his steps. His eyes, though, were filled with curiosity and awe. I guessed he'd never been this close to a dragon before without having it either growl, spit at or generally trying to kill him.

I felt myself twitch as the hatchling approached. It wasn't in a dragon's heart to sit and let a human comes so close without fighting back, but I fought the instinct to stand up and send a fireball hurling at the little one. I was curious to what he would do. He was, after all, a child, and I am a dragon. The match is set if we do fight. And those eyes…

The grey marbles were clear and reflective. I could see myself in them, a reptilian light blue eye gazing back at me, mirrored by his own. His steps had grown even more hesitant now, and he shrank back whenever my tail twitched slightly, but he continued to advance. He stopped now and then, yes, but he did not back away.

Finally, when he was within arm's reach to my snout, the hatchling raised one of his fleshy hands tentatively. It has no scale or any protection on it except for the glove he wore and the thick coat sleeve. Looking at it, it made me wonder again how exactly humans have managed to survive as they had now.

The hand came closer to my snout, the most sensitive part in my entire outer body. I shrank back. I don't want to be touched. Some part of me, the dragon part, forced a growl out of my mouth. I am not an animal. I will _not_ let myself be touched. No matter how curious this hatchling is or how much of a living riddle he'd made in my eyes, he can't touch me.

And that was when the grey eyes flashed. His jaw was still set; his lips were in a thin, concentrated line. His body was still rigid with tension, but his eyes told me of a different story than what his body language spoke.

It was the first time I've been in close quarters with the young child, close enough so I could actually see his eyes. They were laughing pebbles with a quality of mockery to them that I cannot hope to explain. What I _can_ tell is, when I looked into them for the first time that close, I saw a challenge. I saw a _dare_.

He was _daring_ me to touch him. He wasn't asking me to. He wasn't waiting for me to make the first move because he was afraid or kind. He was _mocking_ me into doing it. He has put himself in the place of the superior. I suddenly had the fleeting impression – not even a proper thought – that this one would not stand second in a game he was good at.

My eyes narrowed at the dare. The playful part, the part that thirsts for a win reared its ugly head. _Fine. I won't lose to you either. One time is enough._

So I fell for the challenge; I fell for the beautiful and permanent trap that was set out for me by the hatchling, who, surprisingly, did not even realize it. Or maybe it was not him who'd set the trap. It was the gods.

Moving my head an inch closer with no sense of hesitation, I touched my snout against his gloved hand.

I swear I can hear Loki laughing as soon as it happens. Our contract was made.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

The hatchling's eyes widened as soon as we made contact. _His hand is so warm,_ I thought faintly as I felt the tip of my snout warm up somewhat in the cold winter day. My eyes drooped a bit. It had been a long time since I felt any living, intelligent creature touch me with my permission. My dam and sire died too soon, and my brothers and sisters moved on to have mates. I was alone for so long. Now this simple touch revived the pleasure of having contact with flesh easily.

I felt the hand was about to draw away, but then it stopped before resting once again, wholly, on my snout. There was a bit of silence, then a few shuffling noises and then another hand rested under my chin and started scratching.

No, no, I did not transform into a pathetic puddle of pleasure, of course…

Okay, fine, maybe I did, but it was only for a little (no honesty promised). And I hadn't had real contact for years that was violent-free. Heck, I didn't even know I like the feeling of being scratched. Nobody had ever done that to me before. No dragon could do it. Ah, the blessing of opposable thumbs.

A chuckle sounded, pleasantly surprised. "I never thought dragons like to be petted," the hatchling said.

That yanked me back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I yanked my head away from the hatchling, who blinked in astonishment. Growling softly, irritated, I turned my head away from him but did not leave. I didn't want to go anywhere at that moment. Something was holding me grounded.

What have I let myself fallen into? What just happened?

"Tempest?" the hatchling asked, a slight thread of concern in his voice. I refused to look at him.

_Go away. Go away. I need time to think._

There was a long stretch of silence before a gentle pressure was put onto the scale near the side of my neck. I shifted slightly, but didn't have the heart to truly pull away. Gods, what is _wrong_ with me?

Sweyn did that first, though. After a few moments, the pressure on my neck eased before it disappeared and I heard footsteps crunching through the snow. I turned my head halfway to watch as the hatchling trudged toward the fallen weapons and retrieved them, putting them back to the places where he'd previously hidden the sharp things. When he was done, he heaved a sigh and turned back to look at me.

I didn't try to escape his gaze this time. The hatchling smiled slightly.

"See you tomorrow," he said before turning and running quickly away from me, the snow only bothering his steps somewhat.

I watched him go in silence, watched as he disappeared into the woods and concentrated on his crushed pine needle smell as it moves through the forest, wary of any dragons that might try to approach the hatchling. None did, however. Perhaps it was the remnants of my scent on him. Perhaps he was just too skinny to be deemed a worthy catch.

When the hatchling was long gone, I was still sitting in that clearing, wondering about the encounter. Finally, near sun down, I stood up and stretched to wake up my sleepy muscles and rose to the now-snowing sky. Heading east, I returned home, flying high above the other dragons in case my distracted mind makes me bump into any of them. That wouldn't be pretty. Timberjack wings weren't a joke.

Even as I dropped myself into my secured warm nest that night, I still could not stop to think about the hatchling, his eyes, and my own idiotic, unexplainable actions. There was no reason to answer to that dare, really. I could've bitten that hand off, could've shown him that a dragon is not meant to be touched.

No, that was silly. I would've never done that had I spared him in the first place. I can't.

_But what did he do wrong?_ My mind questioned fiercely. What did he do wrong except for throwing about a challenge he probably wasn't conscious of doing? I chose to take the dare, after all.

As I drifted off to sleep with a filled stomach, the day's memories haunted me. What had really happened there? And then there was Sweyn's good-bye promise.

_See you tomorrow._

My mind was fading. Thoughts were getting mixed up, along with memories. I was losing myself to sleep. My last coherent thought was: _I'll come back tomorrow._

_I'm getting too much into this. Thanks for the lovely reviews you guys left me. I know this chapter is confusing, but I meant for it to be confusing. Remember, this is a dragon's point of view, and when you are that big and that powerful...how much power a puny human can hold over you comes as a great shock._

_Continue to review and I'll continue to write well!_

_~the Apprentice_


	9. The Performance

**The Performance**

The day that followed was spent for the dragons to fly around and do absolutely nothing but enjoying the air. I have heard of various "accidents" in the woods with a dragon and a young Monstrous Nightmare disappeared into the human dwellings, never to come back. I had a vague hope that he wasn't killed and got to be entertainment for the humans. At least there would be a chance of escape if that was true. Otherwise…it will be a bit of a shame to see his hide decorating the chieftain's garments next raid.

I, for my part, had yet to go flying, since my brain was filled with the image of laughing, mocking eyes that taunted me even in my sleep. They were kind of creepy. I've never seen human eyes like that before, nor did I see any dragon who had that kind of look. We don't look at each other in the eyes much, so that was sort of understandable, but humans…

Well, I have looked at those pathetic little two-legs that somehow kept beating us back several times whenever I was about to perform a kill. They were either filled with rage, something that bordered insanity, frozen fear or acceptance. That was all I could glimpse before I had them running at my head and swinging a battleaxe. Never, though, had I seen eyes like that, eyes that were without the usual horror of seeing a dragon so close.

So many new things happen around that hatchling…

Humans and dragons are borne to be enemies, my childhood had told me. There was violence between us and nothing more. We only learned about each other because we want to know which way was most effective to take the other out.

I hesitated about it for awhile, thinking things over, if it was really worth it. Finally, I made up my mind. Screw the teachings.

I grinned slightly and stood up, glancing at the gray sky. It was about the same time as yesterday when I landed in that valley, I'd estimated. Maybe the hatchling was there again. For years, I've been searching for a long-time project that involves a lot of thinking and doesn't expire after the subject becomes too boring and I decide to eat it. It wasn't like I'd let any other dragon see me.

Sweyn posed an excellent riddle. Besides, I kind of liked the way he scratched me…

I shook myself. Alright, not _that_ deep. Tensing, I jumped into open air and flapped until I was in open sky before catching on a current and headed west to the valley. I didn't care for the other dragons as they squawked indignantly whilst I passed, sharp blade-wings ready to cut through them if needed be. I was too preoccupied with a living riddle and the fun from trying to solve it.

0o0o0o0o0

The hatchling was there alright, this time glaring daggers at the aspen tree from across the lake. As I landed near the tree, I saw a face drawn on the wood, portraying an exceptionally ugly human face wearing one of those horned hats they were so fond of. His eyes were crossed and he was grinning, showing missing front teeth.

"Hey, Tempest," Sweyn growled, and I felt my eyes widened at the amount of repressed fury in his voice. "Nice of you to join me. Do you mind stepping aside for a bit? I don't want to hit you." I did as he said, eyeing the large rock in his eyes curiously then to the ones lying near the base of the aspen tree. What is he doing?

"The stupid –" the hatchling took a stand, getting ready for an overhead throw – "hybrid cross between an earthworm and a lovesick Gronkle –" I saw his hand tightened around the rock – "moron!" The rock flew, hitting the face's mouth squarely. I glanced at the target and then at the hatchling, who was breathing hard and his pale cheeks were pink with rage.

Ah, somebody having a bad day?

Then Sweyn suddenly flicked his wrist and raised his hand again. I saw a glint of metal in the light, but before I could do anything other than giving an alarmed shriek and raising my tail, it thudded against the tree trunk, this time lodged deep in the target's nose.

Slowly lowering my tail, I glanced warily at the hatchling, who had turned to kick up some snow angrily. He slammed the tip of his right foot against a boulder nearby and spent the next half minute hopping around, cursing Loki's mischief and Thor's twisted sense of humor. Amused, I settled down and watched as he slid and landed back-first in the snow with a loud "Oof!" A humored snort escaped me.

His head snapped up and annoyed gray eyes met mine, but there was no anger in them, only wry humor. "Thanks for the support, Tempest," the hatchling said sarcastically before dropping his head again. I heard a deep sigh. "I'm hungry," he whined suddenly. "I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and I want to flay somebody alive, but I'll probably get kicked into the ocean for that. What to do?"

Gods, he was talkative today, I mused, standing and walking over to him. To my surprise, the hatchling didn't try to run. Instead, he just stayed where he was until I was looking down at his face upside-down. His eyes were dreamy and he reached up like he was going to touch the clouds over head.

I watched his hand curiously. It was held up straight, palms out, before it closed into a resolute fist and a disappointed sigh escaped his lips. The hatchling sat up and rubbed the back of his head before getting onto his feet, hands supported by his knees and glanced tiredly across the lake.

"Great," he muttered. "Now I'll have to drag myself _all _the way over there and retrieve the dagger." And he did as I watched him go, only slightly acknowledging me like I was just another human, another friend, who has come to check him out.

I couldn't believe it. One touch and I've won his trust. If so, then this human wasn't very smart; well, that wasn't really a big surprise. He, though, seemed to at least have more intelligence than the rest of his axe-swinging folks back in their colony. Either that or he was just way too steely and too much of a gambler.

To experiment, I took in a loud breath and immediately he had turned back to me, his left hand holding a dagger, ready to throw, his eyes wary.

You know what, never mind; ignore what I said earlier. I exhaled and settled down as the hatchling looked at me doubtfully one last time before jogging toward the aspen tree and pulled his weapon out. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal some kind of metal contraptions with the thing that the humans called "sheath" attached to it. The hatchling returned the dagger to that sheath before eyeing me up and down.

We held our gazes for a moment before Sweyn started toward the woods. "I'm going hunting," he announced, breaking into a jog and soon vanished into the trees. I looked after him for a few seconds and then stood to follow, curious as to how exactly humans hunted. I've seen their "hunting parties" before; they often carried pieces of curved woods with their two ends connected by a strong string and a cylinder slung across their backs with lots of feathered-tip pointed sticks. When they found a prey, they pressed the feather tip against the string, aimed, and then released it, sending the stick flying to pierce the animal's neck.

Sweyn, however, carried no such thing. There was a definite scent of metal on him, but how exactly would he hunt without all those instruments? Chase a deer on foot? He might be fast, but I have hunted deer before, and I know for a fact that humans aren't made to catch those fleeing packages of meat.

Once again, the hatchling had managed to ensnare my interest. Enchanting, really.

Sweyn glanced at me as I accompanied him but carefully kept a distant as his eyes narrowed again. He hadn't decided to toss his knives at me was already a thankful (but weird nonetheless) thing; if I was going to stalk him in peace, I will have to earn his trust.

That was all that was exchanged, though, and as long as I kept that little bubble between us, the hatchling paid no mind. He didn't seem uncomfortable with me keep looking at him either, although I knew he knows I was looking; the occasional questioning glances he cast me proved that.

We kept walking for a long time. I detected hibernating bears along the way and it made my mouth watered, but I decided it was more interesting catching this event than eating. Besides, I was sensing a deer ahead, about three hundred meters from our current position.

Glancing at the hatchling, I saw that his steps had stopped and he was kneeling on the ground, his gloved finger tracing something on the white snow. Curious, I crawled toward him and bent over to sniff at the ground. Yes, a deer has passed by. Probably the one I just detected. There was also a footprint to prove it.

"Not too old if it hasn't been covered up yet," the hatchling muttered, looking up, past me to the ground before him. Scattered footprints could be seen here and there. I found this method of tracking interesting while I watched the hatchling moved to those tracks and examined them; as dragons, we relied more on our senses than evidences in the environment. Humans have great ways to make up for their lack of natural defenses after all.

No more words were uttered. I watched with fascination as the little one glanced here and there, jumping over a fairly small fall redwood with practiced ease and landed with not much but a soft thump on the other side. I followed him just as silently, still keeping my distant and keeping track on the closing-in scent of the prey ahead. Only forty-three meters now.

Sweyn's footsteps became more silent as he met tracks that he muttered to be "newer". His movements became more cautious, until I could only hear soft rustles whenever he shifted. Whatever history was behind this child, I understood that he wasn't a complete novice when it comes to hunting. He knew the basics, at least. I still was doubtful about how he would hunt without those traditional "bows" and "arrows" his people used, though. What would he do? Jump the deer? I hope he was fast and can climb a tree, because those animals were freakishly skittish.

Well, looks like I was about to find out. We were closing in fast, and the scent hadn't moved. I sniffed the air carefully before moving ahead of him, my eyes narrowed. Instincts started to take over and soon I found myself gazing from behind a thick fallen tree trunk into a steep ravine where six deer were grazing quietly, trying to get the last of the grass that was still edible.

My stomach growled angrily and I slinked forward, but a pressure suddenly appeared on the side of my neck. Turning my head slightly, I saw the hatchling standing there, his dagger clutched in his left hand as he, too, joined me to watch the bunch of deer down in the ravine.

His eyes flashed in delight at the sight and they quickly circled the place, searching, looking. I didn't know what he was looking for exactly, but before long, he was off the trunk and started walking softly away. He seemed to be attempting to round the ravine. I remained where I was but my eyes never left Sweyn as he moved across the white-covered trees, not trying too hard to be stealthy but not making too much noise to startle the meals with feet down in the ravine either.

Soon, he was at the left side of the steep ravine and was gazing down at the deer with a hungry look in his eyes as he crept to a bush on the steep slope, the dagger safely hidden so it wouldn't make any unfortunate flash. The deer suddenly raised their heads when a small cracking noise issued from the hatchling's general direction, and I stiffened. If he wasn't going to catch them, I will.

We held absolutely still for a whole minutes before the animals returned to their grazing. I breathed a half-sigh of relief as I saw Sweyn stood a little higher, his black head bobbing up from the thicket he was hiding behind. _What is he doing?_ I questioned myself silently, tensing again. _He will be seen._

There was a flash of steel, a shadow of something moving extremely quick and a deer went down. The rest, without even looking back, fled to the other end of the ravine. I jumped out of my hiding place and leaped after them, landing squarely in their path. Before they could react, I shot my pointed tail at one of them and randomly got a young one nailed in the chest. Tossing it aside, I snatched another one with my teeth, crushed its neck, feeling the sweet blood but also tossed it back. Jumping one more time, I landed on an old deer lacking behind, killed it and then returned it to the pile behind me.

The rest took off like there was – well, like there was a dragon on their tails. Sweyn was dragging his own kill to the side of the ravine, avoiding the panicked preys narrowly as they thundered past. I glanced at him again, now looking at his kill carefully and saw the reason for its death.

Lodged deep in its neck was a leather-covered knife hilt.

I stared at the kill, then at the hatchling who was smiling at me triumphantly. "What're you staring at?" he asked cheerfully, grinning for what seemed like the first time since we met.

Turning away from the scene, I proceeded to throwing two of my kills over my back and carried the last in my jaws before trotting toward him. _Impressive._ Maybe I can pay him back for the show by carrying the deer for him.

What do you know? This hatchling is a world of wonders. I will gladly stalk him until I've found out everything I want to know.

* * *

_Before we go into further discussions, I shall tell you that 1) I have no idea if throwing a knife at that short of a distant to a bunch of deer without setting them all running like hell before you even raise the knife is realistic and 2) this is purely fiction, so if it's not true, I'm sorry. It's been a long day and I want to sleep._

_Second of all, thanks for all those who left the lovely reviews, however short. Keep reviewing and I'll keep making the chapters as fast but as good as possible._

_Third of all, sad announcements: writer's block on _Pride of the Dragon_, so until I get all my juice out with this one, don't expect an update. Sorry, guys. Can't make my Ideas Generator work._

_Reviews are loved,_

_~the Apprentice_


	10. The Wheel Spins Too Fast

**The Wheel Spins Too Fast**

The hatchling accepted the help I offered him, but he wouldn't let me sink my teeth into the prey. He merely heaved it up and threw it across my back before leading the way deeper into the woods. We were going further south, I realized, my inborn direction compass working quickly. So he wasn't leading me toward his village. How strange. Where would he eat his prey?

I didn't know where he was leading me, but judging by his easy strides and the little-less-than-distrustful glances he kept throwing me, I guess he wouldn't guide me to a clearing full of bloodthirsty Vikings waiting for a dragon to slay. Basing on the way he acts about whichever human's face he had painted on the aspen tree to throw rocks at and the sourness whenever he spoke of his people, I wouldn't say he actually loved his folks all that much.

"Here," the hatchling said at last after about an hour of walking. We were standing to look down on another ravine, this one shaped like a shallow bow and filled up with snow except for two parallel, large oak trees standing about ten meters apart. The space between them was obscured with a very thick shade.

I huffed, studying the place. Several large boulders and rocks were scattered here and there, and I imagined it would have been covered in green grass in the summer. But it was winter now, and everything in sight has at least something white and snowy to it. My eyes traveled back to Sweyn, who was looking rather proudly at the place. He was already starting to go down toward the trees.

"One of my many discoveries," he explained as I followed him with an easy jump. He was searching around the oak tree and gathered many of the branches lying around innocently, but I wouldn't doubt one of those will be in my eye if I tried anything. The hatchling bundled them up and reached to his belt for something. Probably the things humans used to light fire. "Not being in the center of attention gave me lots of time to do whatever I want – Whoa!"

I've decided to save him the trouble and produced a small fireball. It hit the branches and created a warm fire. "Thanks," the hatchling admitted, rolling his eyes as he went to retrieve his kill. "But you could've warned me first." Dragging the deer with some efforts, the hatchling dropped it on the ground before drawing out a longer, curved knife from the belt under his coat and started the butchering.

Chewing on my meal slowly, I watched as the knife danced about the deer, slicing down its stomach and the hatchling's hands came inside to remove the intestines before throwing them aside. I have only seen humans work on their kills once; I've never seen it in fine details before, so I was no judge to see if the hatchling was an amateur or a fine butcher. However, seeing the ease he has, it was easy to tell that it wasn't the first time he'd done this.

Finally, when the meat was done, the hatchling started to skewer junks of them and stabbed their ends into the earth so the meat could roast over the fire. I decided there was nothing left to do but wait and fully turned my attention to my own foods.

I bit into the hide first, easily ripping the skin apart and threw it aside before biting my teeth into the ribs, breaking them. Savoring the crunchiness of the bones for a few seconds, I moved on to clean the inside completely. Livers, heart, stomach, flesh – I ate it all. I only left the bladder behind and then moved to the head.

There was suddenly a large swallow as my fangs sank into the side of the deer's skull. I glanced to the hatchling to see that his eyes were determinedly turned away. Curious. Why would he do that? What was so nasty about me eating?

"Humans…don't have strong enough stomachs to…do what you dragons do," the hatchling said carefully, his eyes still looking at the fire pleadingly like it could do something to keep his attention from me divided. I blinked once. They don't? Then how come they skinned us like sheep and used our heads as trophies above their doors? And what about that dragon arena thing when somebody has to kill a Nightmare in front of their entire crowd and chop the poor thing into gory bits and then roared triumphantly over it.

How did they have the stomach for that, but not for this?

Then another question entered my mind. Is it your people, or is it just _you_?

Whatever the reason was, the hatchling looked like he didn't want to see any part of my eating, so after a few seconds of consideration, I turned my back on him, making sure the scene was out of his view before proceeding to suck the brain out and eat the things in the head.

For a good hour, I finished my second deer for the day and tossed the carcass away for some Terrible Terrors if they were hungry and happened to pass through the region. When I was done and the leftovers were a safe distance away from the valley (the hatchling asked where I was going when I left, but he didn't follow) so that no Terror would see this dragoness being smitten by a human hatchling if that happens, I turned my full attention back to Sweyn.

He was holding a large chunk of deer meat over the warm fire, his eyes glazed and skyward. I followed his gaze and saw a few specks of blue sky behind the fluffy clouds. The blizzards have ceased for awhile, and I would predict that for the next two weeks, there will be peace on Death Rock for once. I mean the weather, of course. Put an average Viking and an average dragon on the same island and there will be war.

My eyes traveled back to the hatchling. His gaze was still locked on the clouds, a wistful look now entering them. Before long, though, the junk of meat on his stick started sizzling with fire and the dreamy look vanished with a blink of an eye. The hatchling held up the stick and groaned at the sight of the black junk.

"Great," he grumbled, tossing the thing aside and shaking his head in disdain. "Daydreams. They are all worthless." The last phrase was said angrily but just a bit uncertainly as the hatchling reached for another deer-on-a-stick, this one done just right and dug in.

For the next half an hour, I looked at the sky thoughtfully, trying to work out just what the hatchling had been thinking. It was twice today that I saw him have that look on his face. The one in the valley was pretty much the same thing. What is about the sky that is so fascinating? Of course, as a dragon, I understood that sky means flight, freedom. But Sweyn was a _human_. He was made to live with his feet firmly on the ground. He has only touched Sky briefly before, both during a frightening time.

But is it impossible that he _liked_ it?

The winds started blowing again, rustling my scales slightly. It was not even cold in the slightest to me, but judging from how the flame and the hatchling shuddered, perhaps it wasn't so. Watching him curled up into a tight ball, knees against his chest, an image of the same person sitting atop a boulder, shivering with blue lips and nose suddenly flashed back in my mind from what seemed like a century ago.

This time wasn't much different from the last, either, except we were closer, and Sweyn wasn't glaring at me. He didn't ask for help, though, even if I know that he would want to. His momentary glances at my wing proved that. He was still the stubborn, hard-to-sway hatchling down to the very last minute.

I snorted in exasperated puzzlement. We weren't going to eat each other now, that was for sure. I've made it clear I am not going to harm him, so why did he still keep that distance? Do I look that suspicious, or is it just his nature?

_Probably his nature,_ I reasoned as I stood slowly and made my way toward him, slight hesitance nagging at my brain only to be brutally shoved away. He has only a few knives, but even so, I was convinced he can't hurt me. I will have to show him that I meant no harm either. That I really do.

Covering the last six meters between us with soft, measured steps, I finally stood behind him and sat down there, wounding my tail around his pitiable, tiny body that has no natural protection on it for the weather and draped a wing over him carefully to block out the brewing winds.

There was a small gasp of surprise from under the limb and when I arched my neck to look at him, the hatchling looked positively shocked. His mouth was partly opened, working like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. I watched him, waiting for something to happen. Will his lips tightened into a scowl? Will he leap away, glaring at me and stalked off, all newfound trust gone?

Finally, after a lot of blinking and staring, the fleshy lips twisted. But it was not a scowl. It was not an expression of awkwardness, nor was it of alarm. It wasn't wholly what I have expected from this one. But then again, looking back on it, he'd never met any of my expectations before. He'd always done the opposite.

A soft smile appeared on his face, a strange quality of relief in it, and I could see the last of his distrust fading away. He leaned against my scales, breathing out a sigh through his nose. His eyes drifted close, causing me to release a breath I didn't know I have been holding and for my body to stop tensing (I did not even notice that I was tense).

I placed my head so that my tail was between his feet and my head. It was starting to snow again, I noticed dimly. But how important is that? I've won the hatchling's trust…and he has won my respect. Finally, a new level of acceptance. It would help with my later observations of him, no doubt about that.

But there was something more to it. I felt proud because I've achieved his trust, not because for my own good, but because of something else…something that I can't name. I've wanted the faith, there was no doubt. But not just for that reason. It was all so…puzzling. I convinced myself that I have viewed it as a game, and I've won this round, but that wasn't it.

There was no word for it. However, I felt like I want his trust _just because_. Why? _Why?_ That was the question. That and _how did he affect me so much?_ This one human who was too stoic to give up, too stubborn to ask for help and too distrustful to accept me. What made him so special? I've hunted countless humans before, have slaughtered many of Sweyn's race. What stopped me from doing the same thing with _this_ particular human child? Why did I not kill him that moment when we first touched down on the Island of the Tribal Wolves? Before my decision to keep him alive for observation, before he showed me more of himself, before this all started spiraling forward too fast for me to keep pace.

And why did we meet again? I have spared the hatchling, and that might have been that. But then perhaps the gods had led us to that valley together, so we can see each other in a different light, and he'd performed that first touch, and I've fallen to it. For the first time, lying there, curled up around Sweyn, I realized that despite all his glares and his distance, he might never really _hurt_ me.

Well, that makes a lot of sense. Threatening somebody but not meaning to do it? Humans are so _strange_…

A hand suddenly appeared on the side of my head, causing me to turn and looked curiously at the hatchling. His hand was, once again, warm against my scale, making the heat travel to my skin. Are humans always so warm like this? I made a feeble attempt to pull back, but then gave in. Fine, let him have his fun.

The hand traveled over my neck, stopping here and there. It was strangely pleasurable, and I found myself purring softly to his touch. I've never been touched like this before. Not before him. And I liked this new experience. It happened too quickly, almost scary, but this one – this one was…lovely.

It continued until I found my head lying in the hatchling's lap, his other hand under my chin. His touch was gentle and measured, and he seemed to know just where to scratch. I closed my eyes and let myself go. Nobody was looking, so who cares? As long as it wasn't public, no problem.

I found it hard to believe that the same little human who has sent me glare after glare and had been chased by me throughout the forest, forced down a cliff and actually had the guts to jump on my back for a ride was doing this. If it had been I on that cliff, in that situation, I would've killed my opponent in his sleep. I was pretty sure other humans would, too.

So why hadn't you, hatchling?

I opened one of my eye to look at Sweyn, who was overtaken with that same dreamy look again, and his gaze was once again skyward. The specks of blue were wider and more numerous now. The light gray clouds were clearing at last. It will probably remain that way for hopefully a week before some deities sends another blizzard hurling at us. They always do that.

Once again, I found myself wondering just what was so enchanting about the sky to a human. But then again, this hatchling was unlike any other, so what does it mean for _him_? I wished I could've asked, but we didn't speak the same language, so I can't count on him to understand anything I uttered.

The hatchling kept his eyes locked with the blue specks for some time before he shook his head like he was trying to get rid of something sticky. "I should really stop the stupid thoughts," he said with a smirk, but it was sour. "After all, only reality matters, right?" That wasn't said with very much enthusiasm.

Yes, only reality matters. Dragons live the present, after all. Kill all those who challenge you, hunt all those you have to, fly as high as you can while you still have your wings and have some kids while you're still in your mating years. We don't look back. We look a bit forward at times, but most of our life is _here,_ in this moment.

I've had exciting thoughts of pure fiction when I was only a hatchling, twenty-something years old, but as I grew older and made my first kills, they faded like mists. Life was too busy for dreams, after all. Fictions – they are useless. They get you killed, nothing more.

"Still, it's kinda nice to get away from reality sometimes, huh?" the hatchling said distantly.

Yes, it _is_ kinda nice…

Wait, what? I'm agreeing with him? On something that is completely backward from draconic traditions?

I pulled my head away from his reach and looked at him, sudden alarm coursing through me. _It wasn't important,_ a part of my mind said calmly. _He was just stating the fact and you agree with him because he was right._

_And since when did you forget that you are a damn dragon and started going around listening and agreeing to humans?_ the other side of my mind demanded.

Since when indeed. Since when had all this started going too fast? Since when did I care? Since when…

I need time to think. This human was affecting me too much. I need my space. I need to _flee_. Fast.

And just like that, before I could realize what I was doing, I was between the clouds, leaving behind the hatchling. My mind was in a jumbled state of panic and numbness. Panic because of the effect he was having on me, and numbness because I didn't really comprehend what was happening anymore. I need to brake before this goes too far.

_He is poison,_ I thought fiercely, although I myself was unconvinced. _He is poison._

But he will be back. I won't forget him, and he won't forget me. Until then, I need to work things out with myself as much as possible.

Too fast…The wheel spins all too fast.

* * *

_I'll bet you a beer can that Sweyn was like "WTF?" That or he'll think dragons have mental problems. Don't worry, I - I mean Tempest - will be back. As of now, I need to think._

_Reviews are loved._

_~the Apprentice_


	11. Fear Driven

_And now, next chapter. It's not going to have a lot of action in this one, although it's crucial in Tempest and Sweyn's growing relationship._

_Thanks to all those who've reviewed and are staying with me! It makes me happy and write better! Enjoy._

* * *

**Fear-Driven**

For the entire next week, I avoided the hatchling.

I didn't know why…No, I _do_ know why, but I needed time. I have to think things through. The hatchling had changed me too much. It was scary, and I don't want that. No, I really don't, as fun as it was to experience new things. I have almost thrown away everything that is sacred to dragons, I've realized as I flew home from the last meeting. I've spared the child, I've almost befriended him, I've let him touch me willingly, I've won his trust.

What have I become? Where is Winter? Where is that Timberjack dragoness who relished in cat-and-mouse games in which the loser is the dead? What am I now? What do I have anymore?

Well, for starter, there was Sweyn who was probably questioning my sanity and randomness in his human dwellings. What kind of dragon wins his trust and then burst out flying in, what, fifteen minutes? I wondered if he made it back to his home safely –

Oh, Thor, there I was again. Worrying about one of my supposed foods if he was living _fine_ or not. We've not known each other all that long and already the hatchling had started to change me. He'd made me question things that I shouldn't have. He'd made me change too much. I feared that. I feared change.

I feared _him_.

But after the week, though, I found that I missed the penetrating grey eyes. There were so many things about the child that I wanted to learn. He has, after all, not scared me on purpose. There was no lie in that child, it seems. So why shouldn't I cast away the fear and go a bit deeper? No matter what, after everything is said and done, he _is_ still fascinating.

Greed of knowledge had always been my weakness and admittedly, it had gotten me into trouble before, but the thirst was sometimes irrepressible. Besides, I'm in my nineties, and although that was pretty young among dragons, I am no longer being controlled or watched over by anybody else but myself. It kind of stung with nobody out there to care enough anymore, but we are traditional loners. Well, not exactly like the Night Furies who seemed to have some conflicts about living anywhere a hundred and two miles close to each other except when they mate, but Timberjack dragons lived in a loose society.

After that one week of deliberately avoiding the valley and pretending I couldn't see Sweyn lurking in and out of the forest while I hunted close to him but unseen, his hand gripping a bow, I decided it was time to meet up again. I could not hide forever, after all. We will meet again sometimes, whether in a raid or in an encounter in the woods.

I went to that valley again that morning. The sky was, thankfully, clear blue. I had been right. It wouldn't snow for another week if we were lucky. If we weren't…well, maybe tomorrow there'll be a blizzard. Death Rock weather wasn't made to be predictable.

To my surprise, the hatchling was not there, but there were remnants of his scent all over the place. I followed it to the edge of the forest and groaned. How am I supposed to find a tree in the middle of the forest? Had he smell of human, I would've been able to detect him. But no, he would just have to have the scent of crushed pine-needle.

It was probably the wisest thing the hatchling could've done just yet. That at least made it hard to track him if I had the intention of dining on his bones. It worked two-ways, though, and now _I_ will have to go search for him. The old-fashioned chop-the-woods-till-you-get-the-kid way.

Sighing in irritation, I went into the woods. I couldn't fly because if I did, I wouldn't be able to land. The trees were way too narrow for that. It was a curse we gigantic dragons had always suffered. Especially the Timberjack, since our wingspan was about twice the size of a full-grown Nightmare when we were in our adult years. Oh, yes, I can chop down the trees easily enough, but that would no doubt draw a battalion of crazed Vikings to me.

I wasn't in the mood for little games that day.

Clinging to the faint, faint scent of human pheromones nearby, I followed the pine-needle scent further into the forest, stopping now and then to check if any other obnoxious human beings or dragons were around. I ran into six different ones and a Gronkle high on kitty grass, but they left me alone to do whatever I wanted. Dragons generally don't care about what each other was doing. As for the humans…they made about as much noise as a Zippleback with its two heads in a heated argument over a bit of deer. I had never understood why they fought. Didn't the meat go into the same stomach no matter which way it comes in?

An hour, many moments of losing directions, running into empty valleys and ravines later, I found the hatchling.

He was sitting in that ravine he'd shown me earlier last week with his back against one of the two oak trees, curled up in a ball. It was kind of hard to make out the small figure in the dark shade the tree gave, what with his clothes and black hair. Beside him lied a piece of curved wood with its ends connected by a string and a cylinder container next to it, feathers, straight and numerous, sticking out of the opening. It was the humans' traditional hunting tools.

Silently, I covered the hill with one effortless jump and landed a few meters from the hatchling. Approaching him, my head lowered in curiosity, I found that he didn't move even when I made as much noise as I had in the crunchy snow. He hadn't looked up, so how did he know it was me? It could be any other dragon; the forest was flooded with them. And if it had been another dragon, he would have been dead.

I sniffed the air. There was a salty touch to his scent, like very mild seawater. My brain took a moment before it supplied me with the memory of the scent's origin. "Tears," I whispered, remembering the clear, curious liquid filling humans' eyes before they spilled over and trickled down their cheeks. It was a reaction to fear or too much smoke, I remembered.

There was no movement from the child as I closed in enough that I could easily touch the top of his head with my snout if I wanted. His breathings were rhythmic, indicating that he was probably asleep. That surprised me a bit. As wary as he'd been, I'd expected him to at least stay slightly alert here in the middle of the _forest_.

It would be so easy to strike him down, right then, right there. The hatchling would probably never even _feel _the pain. And he'd made my future take an unstable turn after all. If I kill him now, I will allay all those fears with ease. Just one move. Just one fireball. Just one bite. Just one bite and everything will go back to the way they always had been. My life will be more steady. I can continue to go on without having to always think about a human hatchling, his foolishness and his stubbornness and how he deliberately clung on to life no matter if he was pushed against a cliff or against a wall.

Yes. It would be sensible to kill him now. Dragons are, after all, born to slaughter humans. I might lose a potential studying subject, but I can always find another. We are practically immortal. I can live and I can wait until another peculiar little human popped up and observe him from afar. I will not make the mistake of contact as with this one. That human won't change me and I won't change him. We'll all live as happy as we can with the constant civil war on this island.

That's right. If this one is dead, everything will come back to being normal and _safe_. No more wonders, no more fear of change, no more of a future that spun out of control too fast. I will be safe. I will be doing myself a _huge_ favor. I can live happy if I can just do this.

Fire gas started building in my mouth. Yes, just one spark, that's all it takes. That's all it takes for this human to be gone. He'd earned my respect and my curiosity, but he'd thrown me into danger. He'd thrown my way of thinking into danger. I can't have him around. I will have to end this here, _now_.

The gas was ready. I can shoot now. Taking a deep, deliberate breath and stepping back, I prepared to do what my instincts told me to do with that silent, still figure under that huge oak tree. I'm doing myself a favor, I kept thinking. It's for my own good.

One breath. One breath. That was all it takes.

Just one breath. Release it, Winter. Release it and free yourself from this human. Now is the perfect chance. You won't have to see the hurt and the betrayal in his eyes if you do this _now_. Do it, coward. Do it. Now or never.

I took in a little more air. The blast will be powerful. The gas was starting to burn my mouth.

I took yet another little bit of air. Yet I didn't let it loose.

No, that's not right. It wasn't that I _didn't_ let it loose. I _can't_ let it loose.

For a moment, as I looked down on the top of the black head, I saw a pair of determined grey eyes, piercing and wary. Then I saw a figure atop a boulder, shivering with his lips and nose turning blue despite the fire in front of him. That image was then overtaken by the eyes again, this time mocking, challenging.

Then there was that smile. A soft, trusting smile that had somehow made my insides warm up. To be _trusted_. I have been trusted. By a human. By anybody except for my brothers and sisters; no, even they didn't give me as much trust as that smile had given me.

I barely noticed that the gas in my throat was burning. My gaze was focused on the curled-up figure in the snow, remembering the hatchling's hard-to-sway nature, remembering how long it'd taken me to get close to him with permission, remembering how he'd finally handed me his trust. If I decide to end his life here, I will lose all of those. I will regret, but time will erase everything, right? I will forget eventually. I will forget that there was once a human child who was fun to have about and had smiled at a dragon without the intention of poking her eyes out.

The figure suddenly stirred. Startled, I jerked back and released the breath I've been holding, making a powerful blast twice the size of my usual fireballs to hit the higher area of the tall oak tree (it was about five meters taller than even me) and emitting a resounding _boom_.

"Odin!" the familiar voice yelped as the tree shook dangerously. Almost on instinct, I slammed my wing against the trunk some distance above the hatchling's head as embers and lit leaves rained down. My bones wouldn't burn that easily. Human hair…they've always been interesting fire-making material.

The ancient plant's quake stilled after half a minute and I removed my wing gingerly to peer at the boy underneath. Wide, alarm grey eyes locked with mine for ten seconds before Sweyn's tense body relaxed and he stood up, shaken slightly by the sudden wake-up call he'd been given.

He stepped toward me and turned around to glance at the charred tree and the deep gash where my wing had cut into the wood with a whistle. "Any other person would've thought you've tried to kill me there," Sweyn remarked, and my heart jumped. Did he…?

We were silent as Sweyn examined the tree before turning back with a grimace. He looked at me in the eyes again, like he'd always done. "What were you shooting at anyway?" the hatchling asked, picking his abandoned bow and pointing at the black charred mass with one of its tips. His voice was humorous. "Up for fried squirrels?"

I looked away. If only he'd known where that fireball was originally aimed at.

Another pause of slight awkwardness.

"Well, since you woke me up in such a _flamboyant_ manner," Sweyn said and caused me to turn to look at him, seeing him rolling his eyes. What is "flamboyant"? Another advanced term for "fancy", maybe, judging from the way he was using the word. "I think you owe me a hunt together," he finished, smirking, as he put a gloved hand against my lower neck.

He broke the contact after five seconds and trotted toward the edge of the wood. "C'mon, Tempest," Sweyn shouted mockingly. "Too old and _withered_ to catch up to a human youth or what?"

My pride momentarily flared and covered up my shame and shock of the misguided fireball. Snarling back playfully, I covered the ground between he and I in one leap before accompanying him into the woods.

As I watched the hatchling knelt onto the ground and tried to find tracks later on, I thought about what had happened before. I can't kill him. I really can't kill him. His trust and his smile and his demeanor as a whole was like kitty grass to me. Too much of the thing could keep you in a dangerous high and fictional world that can get you killed, but it was addicting. I can't let go anymore.

"I've never known that dragons zone out," Sweyn remarked suddenly, grinning in the fading light of the day. "What are you? Lady Peculiar in a community of Winged Deaths?"

Snorting in teasing derision, I swung my tail around and tapped him slightly on the head. It earned me a chuckle from the hatchling. "Well, let's get moving," he said, jumping over a tree trunk and looking back at me. "The mule isn't gonna wait for us to drag our sorry hides to it."

I followed him.

This might be fun. Let's forget about everything else for the moment and pretend that I wasn't a dragon and he wasn't a human. We were just two living beings on a hunting trip together. Two _friends_, even. Yes, that makes this more bearable even if just for awhile, I thought, nodding. Let's all forget that we are supposed to kill each other, not have fun together. Let's all hide in our own little fantasies for a short time.

My mind, though, will never accept any excuse for the fact that I've nearly destroyed Sweyn's trust and life in one go.

* * *

_I hope the kid doesn't find out about this too soon._


	12. Repayment

_Sorry for the late update. No excuse shall be given because they are all lame. I hope this chapter is enough of an apologize to you. Thank you for your patience and thank you even more for staying with me. Now, to the chapter, please._

* * *

**Repayment**

It became a routine then. Every morning when the weather wasn't too bad, we meet up at the circular ravine, going on a hunt, then near afternoon coming back to the oak tree and eat the things we've caught. Then the rest of the time until sundown will be spent just sitting there, the hatchling telling me stories of his tribe, of their everyday life (which consisted of rather interesting facts, like kids started butting heads when they were quite young to prove their, er, Viking-ness and such) whilst he did something-or-other.

Sometimes he would bring the tiny pointed toothpicks they called "needles" and fabric to make small pouches, other times it would be a knife and a piece of wood as the hatchling worked it into a figure. It still fascinated me as to how a tool of war could…create things like that. But the hatchling certainly could.

We dragons have always believed that the humans were savages (albeit pretty impressive and stubborn ones), nothing more than glorified apes that had earned a bit of brain more than animals and learned how to build things and force others into their service. They certainly fought like one. No strategy, no team, no nothing. Pick up an axe and start swinging like there's no tomorrow for them seems to be their best strategy. Well, in a way, that could be true, but that wasn't important…

The _point_ is, we – no, maybe it was just I – thought that humans only destroy for the better part of their life. All I've ever seen of "human art" are my people's heads and hides and carvings on their pathetic houses that I can run through with the _tip_ of my wing with complete ease. They depended on nature, yet they never truly _looked_ at nature.

Looking at the piece of wood going from, well, being a piece of wood to a young female human's figure, though, I had the impression that I'd better think again. Do all humans have this skill? Or is just this one special hatchling that possessed that magic in his fingers that could make things change like this?

I liked to think it was the latter.

Days passed. I stopped thinking about how wrong it was for a human and a dragon to befriend each other. I stopped thinking about how things would've been different if that fireball had hit its intended target all those weeks ago as I attempted to…eliminate…the threat that turned out to be a sweet little child that I grew to like tremendously.

I stopped thinking altogether.

To my surprise, it feels better when I don't think so much. It feels better if I will just greet my hatchling like a normal friend, hang around him like we are just two lonely beings that finally found somebody we trusted and be happy about it.

At the beginning, there had been hesitation, from both him and me, but his faded away as quickly as the little bits of blue peeking through heavy clouds in this winter. His trust was catching.

By the third week since the Oak Tree Incident (the one where I nearly, you know…), I've stopped thinking altogether. My curiosity was still there, mind you, but whenever I saw Sweyn walking toward me, I didn't think about dissecting his motives to the core or why and how he does something anymore. I thought about the fun we would have together.

It was the most pleasurable time I've had with a friend since…never. Wind Striker kept his distance, the other dragons when we were still young often went in groups of three to four, not a pair like I, so we had never gotten on with each other quite that well. And they don't smile like this hatchling did, the smile that made me brightened for some reason.

I treasured that. I treasured my hatchling and his trust.

Now I looked at the oak tree with disdain, but there was an odd surge of thankfulness welling up in me whenever I did. Thankfulness because the tree had taken that fire for my hatchling. If it had found its true mark…How could I have ever forgiven myself?

Things have changed so much. My view on the humans…it was shifting. I was starting to think that humans weren't so bad after all. Slowly, I was throwing away the name Winter along with my wariness and distaste to humans.

I am "Tempest". I am a dragon.

I am a human child's friend. _My_ human hatchling's friend. I am proud of that fact and thrice as glad.

Had been and always will be.

0o0o0o0o0

It was a considerably warm day (only a few degrees under freezing) and the specks of blue sky were a lot bigger, growing into large lakes of calm cerulean. The weather was still cold, but much better than the freezing-your-wings-off days we've experienced before. There hadn't been a permanent blizzard for a whole month now, but snow still falls consistently, stopping for about ten hours before starting up again. If we were lucky, winter might be going early this year.

Sitting under the left oak, I glanced at the sky through the branches lazily. The hatchling was running late, which was unusual. Most times, he'd always been here when I arrived to greet me with a smile and asked me if I've got to wait for a courting session to get over with or what. That was followed by a little chase around the woods (sometimes I let the hatchling win, other times he won it himself by getting into small spaces only he could fit until I admit defeat – which happens very _rarely_, mind you!) before we start the official hunt.

But then again, what _is_ usual about my hatchling?

So I decided it was best to wait patiently until he drags his backside to me. Patience was a trait existent in all dragons albeit some was shorter on that than others. I've never been great in that department, so I decided to distract myself by thinking about something else whilst I waited. Deciding on the different acrobatics I could perform in the air, I mulled that subject over as I watched the sky.

And so it was for the next two hours as I lost myself in thoughts, moving from subject to subject and momentarily forgot the hatchling altogether. That soon ended when the shouting started, along with the shrieking of what sounded like a very young dragonet.

It was a small sound at first, but it grew in volume as the children's voices lit with glee, and I stood, alarmed. No…

Without needing any prodding, I shot toward the thick trees and picked up on the sounds. Moving as silently and quickly as I could, I followed it. Our dragonets under the stage of fledging were always kept in our share of the island, close to the Dens. We don't want them destroyed by the greedy humans. Yet that did not stop a foolish few from going over the boundary in hope of adventure and met some bloodthirsty humans instead.

I just hope this one was alive when I found it.

The noises came closer until I could lift my head and easily overlook the entire situation. However, as of now, all I could make out was several backs turned against me. They were quite small, so I guessed they were children's. The little one was probably in the middle of that tight-packed circle. I quickly clambered up a tall snow-covered redwood tree so that they would not notice me. Human eyes were not all _that_ sharp – except for the hunters. They certainly couldn't spot a camouflaged dragoness.

Observing, I noticed that there were six human children in total. Four were circling the hatchling, which was a rather young-looking Toxic Nightshade. It was too young to have any of that infamous poison in its fangs, so that would render it nearly useless in a fight. I wasn't even sure if it could _fly_ yet. The other two humans stood a distant away, not participating but not stopping their comrades either. One was a dark-haired female with her hair tied into that style they called a "ponytail". She was looking at the entire ordeal with wide eyes, and her pose was hesitant. She certainly didn't know what to do or what was _right_ to do.

As of the other…

Sweyn looked like he wanted to pounce any day, a dagger in his hand. In fact, he'd already stepped forward and raised the weapon, but the female grasped his sleeve and pulling him back, whispering something I couldn't make out. I saw his eyes moved around the surroundings desperately, searching for something that would solve the situation.

I remained frozen on the tree for a few seconds before moving again. A distraction. I need a distraction. I don't want to fight my hatchling's own kind in front of his eyes. Neither can I guarantee them to be whole after the assault (as the term "battle" was not appropriate – all I do is breathe and they go up in flame), and they were Vikings after all. They could run like an angry dragon dame was after them or they could make a last stand to prove their moronic dignity. One way or another, I don't want to risk it. It feels almost…alien now, having to battle a human after I've got Sweyn.

Great. I should really start moving out of the Dens before some dragon thought I had really lost it.

"Tempest," a whisper sounded in the wind, and I glanced down at the hatchling. He was looking straight at me, his eyes locked with mine. A jolt of understanding passed between us, and I don't know how, but I understood that he would help me. I remained still and narrowed my eyes so the large specks of blue in the middle of pure white would not be recognized.

The female who was standing with my hatchling looked puzzled, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Sweyn straightened, took aim and released the dagger in an overhead throw, sending it spinning against the ground near the Toxic Nightshade.

Yelping, the other human children jumped clear of the way, giving the frozen dark dragonet a wide space. Luckily, it got the message and turned to run, dashing straight toward my hatchling.

For a moment, I thought it was going to try and kill him, but it didn't. Sweyn himself stepped out of the way as it ran past, his face slightly surprised. The dragonet did not look back and I relaxed from the tense position I've remained in the entire operation. Sighing in relief, I climbed back down the tree and slinked around the group to chase after the dragonet. It would head home now to its dame, I was sure, but that didn't mean I would not make sure it goes safely all the way home.

I could feel Sweyn's eyes on me as I ran, but I didn't turn around. We would meet again, that's for sure. Maybe tomorrow. Then perhaps I will try to repay him for what he did today. He had saved one of our dragonets and that itself spoke great significance. The action, in the least, would earn my hatchling a safety pass for a strange dragon. For me, he would have more.

Behind me, though, there was a sudden noise that sounded like a fist connecting with flesh and a bitter, furious and disgusted shout.

"_Traitor!_"

I paused and looked back, unease swallowing me. Should I…?

There was a loud crash not far away, followed by a yelp. Turning my attention back to the Toxic Nightshade dragonet, I decided to worry about that later. Surely the humans would not…hurt one of their own kinds at that age?

0o0o0o0o0

After taking the Toxic Nightshade (which was a male and was dubbed Trouble), I returned to my own mountain, the last word of that unfamiliar voice and its tone haunting me as I settled down in my nest.

_Traitor._

Is that what they called my hatchling? Is that how they responded to his decision of saving a _hatchling_, a _child_? Do these barbarians have no mercy whatsoever? We've spared their little ones. Didn't they teach their own growing generation that children were not meant to be killed before they at least reach adulthood?

Disgusting. They are _disgusting_.

Then there was that noise before the shout. My body tensed as I figured out the possibility. If they had been able to do that to a hatchling, then those children would certainly be more comfortable hitting _my_ hatchling, too. And to think that I'd…

In a fit of impulsiveness, I got up onto my feet and prepared to leap.

"Where are you going?" a voice asked suddenly, deep but curious. I turned around to look into the golden eyes of the old dragon, Lavabreath. His black body (or mostly, anyway) was shadowed by the darkness, but the glowing eyes were rather unnerving. They weren't prodding, though. Just curious.

"Midnight joy flight," I replied, although after that, I wasn't sure what I was going to do next. Go into the human dwellings to find my hatchling? Return to the Twin Oaks and wait until morning? I don't know. But I have to do _something_.

Lavabreath seemed to accept that, so I proceeded. Without looking back, I was in air and flapping. Five seconds later, open night sky was before me.

I flew aimlessly for a few hours to clear my mind before deciding on the Twin Oaks. The night was not warm but nowhere near intolerable, and if I was correct, there was a very large cave not too far from the Oaks. I could rest there for the night if I want. I just wanted to see something familiar.

Still, my guts clenched at the memory of the afternoon. What _exactly_ had that bastard of a human done to my hatchling? It was partly my fault, too. If only I'd acted on my own and not fearing for the others' lives, he wouldn't have been called a traitor and he wouldn't have been hurt. If only…

I landed without much acknowledgement in the ravine and proceeded to curl myself up under the Eastern Oak to sulk. What I hadn't expected, though, was a voice calling softly, "Tempest?"

"Hatchling?" I lifted my head in disbelief and gazed at the direction where the voice had come from, not daring to believe that it really was him.

Sweyn was sitting cross-legged under the other tree in the dark. No fire was present, and he was shivering slightly. He was also pressing a fistful of snow against the side of his face. My hatchling smiled slightly but then winced as he turned, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

My guts wrenched briefly as I stalked toward the child and settled around him, draping my wing over his form to keep the winds and the cold out. The first sensation had faded into a dull, strange ache in my stomach that was not painful but was uncomfortable all the same.

I tucked my head into my wing to regard him. "Where does it hurt?" I asked. But of course he wouldn't understand. Still, my hatchling at least got the basic principles of the question down.

Sweyn shook his head, smiling slightly, that bit of snow still pressed against his face. "It's not that bad. A few bruises here and there. I'll be fine. I've been through worse." His voice took on a bitter edge before he shrugged it off and leaned against me. "Well, everything has a price after all. I've paid mine. And it's worth all that if it saves a life, huh?" The tone was lighter, but there was still a wince as he moved.

Quietness enveloped us for a few moments before I reached up, snatched his sleeve with my teeth and gently pried his hand away. My hatchling looked puzzled but didn't resist. Once the hand came off, the truth went into the opening.

For several seconds, I stared at the dark, slightly swelling bruise on his cheek. Then comprehension finally sank in and white hot anger flared momentarily before dying into a blazing flame. I _really_ feel like felling some trees any moment.

But Sweyn just sighed and reached up to touch my snout. "You can't do anything, Tempest. I act like a dummy, I get beat up. It's always been like that and it always will be. No use in trying to change a rule that'd been around for as long as humans existed." His hand slipped off and he closed his eyes, sighing again.

I studied him carefully for awhile before reaching up and pressing my snout against his face. He flinched slightly at the cold touch, but relaxed soon after. I closed my eyes and we held.

We held for almost the entire night before my head fell into his laps and we got comfortable enough to go to sleep.

0o0o0o0o0

As the sun rose the next morning, Sweyn was looking at it moodily. "Now I'll have to _walk_ all the way back to the village. If my dad found out I'm missing, he's going to have my hide," he moaned, kicking up some snow and then winced in pain. Ouch. I swear, in the next raid I will make every single kid I see in that patch of forest a piece of my mind – a very, very big piece.

Sweyn had adopted a limp that I hadn't seen before, but he'd assured me that it was only temporary. His movements were stiff and they didn't flow together like usual. As he moved, I noticed that he tried not to bend on his sides too much. Probably some lovely bruise there, too.

I pondered about the distance between here and the village. If I run, it might take about fifty minutes and the Vikings were usually early risers. But if I fly, it will take only fifteen at the most. Carrying a passenger as small and light as him, it would be like carrying a cotton bag. No problem there.

But I didn't feel ready to let him go that far yet. Still, he more than deserved it. He'd paid his price for a hatchling's freedom. I owe him that much if not more.

Deciding swiftly, I growled to get his attention and used my neck to gesture to my back. If I keep waiting, I probably would never be ready. Besides, what is the harm?

A never-seen-before broad grin split the hatchling's face and made my day a little bit brighter. The child looked remarkably younger when he was doing that, I observed. "Oh, cool! Thanks, Tempest!" He clambered up with the support of my foreleg and lodged himself firmly between two of my spine bones. It was the place where he'd sat before.

Somehow, this felt right. This felt…okay. Was that supposed to feel like this? But I pushed the thought out of my head. It doesn't matter.

"I'm ready!" came the call. I grumbled in acknowledgement and leaped up the oak tree as it was the only tree around strong enough to support me. It shook slightly as I bent my knees when I reached the top and jumped into the air before snapping out my wings to start flapping.

When we have gained altitude enough to be in open sky, I started to fly at a fast pace but not fast enough to throw off the passenger on my back.

Then I heard it: clear, ringing laughter filled with glee and pleasure. I've thought I heard that before on the Tribal Wolves Island, but I haven't heard it clearly. Now that I did, I had to admit something.

It was satisfying.

Together, we soared into the rising sun. A boy and a dragoness.

Who would have thought? Indeed, who would _ever_ have thought?

* * *

_I'm getting lame, aren't I?_

_Either way, I don't intend for Sweyn to be a sort of "emo" dude going around looking gloomy and all. He was merely a child bent by his society into believing that he's less than them. And yes, he is, physically and mentally. But really, even after all those torments, if you are invited by your friend who is a dragon to ride with her, won't you be a bit ecstasy?_

_I would, and I think you will, too._


	13. Saddle and Deal

_I thank you for all you reviewers and readers. Lots of alerts and favorites, too. Really, you guys are making me grin from ear to ear. So here you go, next chapter. Not a lot of action but I figured Tempest can't remain clueless about Sweyn's family forever. Review replies at the bottom._

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**Saddle and Deal**

Okay, maybe I'd accepted to let my hatchling ride me, but I was very certain I said _nothing_ about a saddle.

"I get it," Sweyn raised his hands up in exasperation as we danced around the Twin Oaks ravine that morning. "You don't want a saddle on your back. Yes, my lady, I am not deaf and dumb. Or blind, for that matter. But it's gonna be a bit hard to explain to my mom why the legs of my pants got torn so much without bringing up sharp dragon scales." He winced at the image. "Not pretty. So c'mon! Please, Tempest! I'll probably fall off your back, too, if we don't use a saddle!"

Well, alright, maybe he had a point, but that didn't stop me from glaring at the "saddle" in his arms disdainfully. I am _not_ reducing myself to a pack mule. Forget it.

The thing itself was well constructed, though. The base was wooden, and although it might bring discomfort to other dragons, Timberjacks' scales were the sharpest there is, and if it was made of leather, there was no doubt I would worn through it faster than two weeks. Leather straps with holes lined the side, probably to strap it to me. There were only two metal rings on each side to hold the straps together and a few buckles. The base was hollowed out to admit a soft large pouch (filled with padding) that somehow stuck to the wood. Probably some of that magic glue the humans made. At the front of the wooden base was where a curve was crafted with leather studded on the bar. Maybe it was where the hatchling would grasp it.

It looked sturdy. But I'm not having that thing on my back.

Sweyn gazed at me for a moment before sighing and dropping the saddle into a grove under the left oak to pick up his harpoon – a sharp blade on a stick, to put it simply and a basket. "Fine, you win," he said grudgingly. "For now, anyway. Well, let's go. I want to put some arrows into Keg's butt, too, if he happens to be around." At this point, the hatchling's eyes had adopted a hungry light. I grunted in amusement. So the arrows found an interesting target this time?

Together, we approached the woods and dived in.

It was painfully easy to pick up the scent of prey. For Sweyn, though, he preferred the tracking methods, which made me wait on him. It was kind of fun, though, hearing him mutter about how much the footprints and broken branches could give away. The humans are fascinating, no matter what you say.

"Hey, look at this," my hatchling suddenly said, interested. Curious, I walked over to him and arched my neck to look over the large rock he was hiding behind. What could possibly be so exciting? I could hear voices – young children's, perhaps. But that was all.

And young children indeed. There were six of the little ones sitting on a bunch of rocks next to a frozen stream. I realized it was the group that had been with Sweyn while they encircled the Toxic Nightshade hatchling about two or three weeks ago. There was a stranger among them, though, one that I had a vague memory about him in a few pursuits. He was one who'd always escaped first and I'd always ignored him in favor of chasing another kid.

The male had brown hair so dark it was almost black that fell past his shoulder but not done in any sort of hairstyles the Vikings had; it was simply loose. I could not see the color of his eyes – or rather, _eye_. His right was covered by a black leather piece with a string that went around his head to secure it in place. It was an eye-patch, if I'm not mistaken. Dressed in a maroon fur coat, trousers, fur boots and a sheathed sword leaned against his left shoulder, he was one of the classical Viking warriors on this island. He was a bit too young for that lot, though.

"And then the idiot threw a _knife_ at us," the child who I identified as Keg the coward that threw the mace at me last month at the slope _and_ scared away my deer said vehemently. He made a throwing motion with his hand. "He let the damn dragon escape, dammit! What's going on in that fluffy head of his?"

"It's a dragon _hatchling_," the female with the dark hair said defensively. "I don't want a part in that either, but _you_ feel like you have to prove your stupid Viking-ness and went to try and kill that hatchling."

"It's a friggin' _dragon_, Alfdis!" Keg threw up his hands in exasperation. "Leave that thing for a few years and the next thing you know, it's gonna swoop down on your house and set the entire thing on fire!"

Alfdis glared at the male openly with rather intense brown eyes before she snorted. "Yeah, I wonder why you didn't prove your _bravery_ when that white dragon was on your heels. I certainly remember you screaming like a girl, though. 'Somebody! HELP!'" she mimicked in a high-pitched, frightened voice. Sniggers erupted from the rest of the kids. "And let's not forget the fact that _Sweyn_ drew the thing away so you can pick your sorry ass away from there, nay?"

I like this girl.

"He's just kissing up to me so that I'll forget him!" Keg protested, his face beet red. Next to me, my hatchling snorted in derision. I eyed him amusedly.

"The loser's not capable of kissing up to anyone," a blonde in the group cut in. "He's many thing, that freak of nature, but he's not an ass-kisser. He'd rather slice your ear."

Keg looked at her witheringly. "What side are you on, Hoverbee?" he demanded as he picked up a mace lying next to him that I didn't see before and tossed it at a tree. It missed miserably. Sweyn snickered behind his hand.

"I know half the population of Vikings that can do better," Alfdis remarked as she looked at the sad little weapon lying in the snow.

_I know one who can toss it at Keg's head from this distance and doesn't miss, _I thought.

"I heard him say this really weird word before he threw the dagger, though," another kid, one with wild light brown hair, huge eyeballs that took up the majority of his upper face and oversized lips said. His voice was timid, and I had to strain to hear. Sweyn, too, I assumed, as he leaned forward and frowned.

"You heard him?" Alfdis said, surprised. "I thought you were too focused on the dragon."

"He's too focused on not peeing his pants," Keg pointed out and earned sneering laughter from the one male who was sitting next to him, but the one in the maroon coat said nothing. The female that was called "Hoverbee" chuckled, but she didn't say anything else. Alfdis frowned.

The big-eyed kid blushed in embarrassment, but Alfdis interrupted. "Did any of you hear him aside from me and Sneezer?"

Humans are _so_ tasteless when it comes to names.

"No," Hoverbee answered, frowning. "I don't think so. What did he say?"

Sneezer frowned before looking at Alfdis. "Didn't he say 'temperance' or something like that?" he said uncertainly.

"What the hell does temperance mean?" Keg barked. "Stop making up words, Sneezer."

"It's not a make-up word, moron," Hoverbee rolled her eyes. "It means 'gentle'. You know, opposite of rough?"

Keg's face turned red again and he opened his mouth to say something, but Alfdis attempted to interrupt again.

"Anyway," the maroon-coated male finally spoke up, his voice lazy, "It doesn't really matter what Sweyn does or doesn't. That's his choice. He's a freak among us, and freaks aren't supposed to fit in."

There were a few shuffling noises next to me, and when I turned, my hatchling was already jogging away. He covered the distant impossibly fast and was soon standing on top of a slope. I was about to turn to follow, puzzled, but then the familiar sound of an unsheathing blade caught my attention. I swung my head around and peeked over the large rock again.

The maroon-coated male was holding Keg at sword's point. "But the fact that Sweyn is a freak," he was saying, his voice icy, "does _not_ mean you can justify what he is or what he does. I've seen the bruises. His bed is right below mine. One more word of insult, one more punch you _attempt_ to throw at my little brother and I will have your ears, _understand_?" The laziness was gone, replaced by cold anger and vehement. He _would_ do as he says, this one.

Shock struck me. _Little brother?_

"_Tempest_!" a familiar hiss called. I turned back to my hatchling who was already bounding away, threw a look over my back once more before going after him. As we ran, I noticed that his face has lost whatever cheer it'd had before we listened to that conversation. Now it was a total mask of disappointment and hurt with a twinge of bitterness and resignation thrown in.

I looked away from him as I jogged along. My hatchling had been alright before the maroon-coated male spoke up. So he valued his brother's opinion highly, it seems, and to hear somebody that close say that…It hurts. I have heard insults said behind my back from my siblings, too, and that had always somehow caused more pain than strangers'.

Looking at the hatchling's back as he ran ahead, I was quite certain he did not hear his brother's last words.

0o0o0o0o0

We decided on fish for the day, and I brought Sweyn to the mouth of the wide river that cut right through half of the island, effectively creating a barrier between the human's side and the dragon's, standing not too far west of the slope where the first chase started.

"Boundary Stream," my hatchling muttered as I carried him on my back, leaping from boulder to boulder in the rocky river mouth before landing on a large and firm one. "My parents had always forbidden me to come here." He slid down from me and landed firmly on the stone before jumping to another fairly dry one, not losing his balance or slipping. The river had not yet completely frozen, and it probably wouldn't be this year. We only had about three more months to go before reluctant spring comes again.

Raising the sharp harpoon, the hatchling knelt down near the water and glanced around as I watched. After about five minutes, he plunged it into the stream and drew it out, a fish hanging from its blade. I grumbled, impressed.

We continued to fish on our own, me having more success than him by using my tail to hit whatever fish I saw in the water ashore. By the time midday came, I bet there wouldn't be any more fish going this way for awhile. A large pile of seafood now lied at the shore, ready for roasting.

After some staring at the pile, I gulped down most of the fish and left the rest for Sweyn to throw into that basket of his before we traveled back to the Twin Oaks. There, he put a bunch of branches together and I lit it. While he roasted his foods, I encircled him with my tail and body, draped a wing over the hatchling and shot my mind back to the events from the day.

So the hatchling has a brother, hm? He never told me that. And judging from his silence, he might not have wanted to before or anytime soon. Still, the maroon-coated male had _cared_ about Sweyn. The hatchling just did not stay long enough to hear or see what he did.

If only I could tell him.

"Tempest," Sweyn said suddenly, and I titled my head. That had been the first time he'd spoken ever since we caught that bunch of kids near the river. "Let's make a deal. You let me put the saddle on you and I'll learn to understand your speech."

I stared at him. Had he gone mad?

"Don't look at me like that," the hatchling rolled his eyes. "You can understand me, but I can't get what you're saying. It's kind of unfair, isn't it? So we don't have to speak the same language. We just have to understand each other." He looked straight at me, making eye contact and held it. "What do you say?"

Makes sense. And besides, I've been thinking about the saddle, too. It was true that my scales are sharp and he wouldn't have anything to hang on to if he doesn't use a saddle. I don't want to hurt my hatchling when we fly, dignity be damned (why did I even _think_ of that when my hatchling's safety is involved?). And after all, if we remove it every night, nothing was going to be troublesome. The language bit sounded even more promising. Hm, ironic. Just when I was thinking of that subject, my hatchling proposed it. It was like he could read minds.

Or we had the same mind.

I looked at him. There didn't seem to be any con in this deal. I would like it if he was to be able to understand me as well. Then maybe I can tell him about what his brother had said and what he has done to that male who called himself "Keg".

Slowly, I nodded. Deal.

One corner of the hatchling's mouth twitched upward. "Fine. Deal." Then he chomped down the roasting fish (are they even _cooked_ yet?) with the speed that probably makes a starving dragon envies and went to get the saddle. When he brought it toward me, I shuddered. Oh, Gods. Here it comes. Now that the fact was kicking me in the snout, I really wished I'd thought about it a bit more carefully.

With care, the hatchling put the thing onto my back, right where he often sat and did the straps so that it fit snuggly. Then he checked them several times before getting onto my back, leaving the fire, his harpoon and the basket containing the leftover fish under the Oaks. The foods probably won't be there when we come back, but Sweyn didn't seem to care.

"Well, c'mon," the hatchling said as he settled down, turning this way and that. I felt his weight shifting on my back slightly. "Let's give this junk of leather and wood a try."

I grunted before jumping onto the left oak tree, using my claws to get myself up like the first time we flew together. Once again, the plant shook under me as I reached the top, but like the last, it held. I tensed, got ready, and leaped into gray sky, flapping my wings to gain altitude.

Aiming for the northern bunch of islands, far away from prying eyes, I flew there to hide from the many dragons and humans that would often look up or fly around. If I got caught carrying a _human_ on my back…the consequences are something I wouldn't want to think about. Ever.

For the next five hours, we soared, circling the sea and lands farther north. The leather was holding, and it has to be extra strong to do that, although I thought I heard something about adding a foot rest from the hatchling.

Before long, there was a demand to speed up from the hatchling as he leaned forward. I didn't know why, but I knew that signal and what it means. Instantly, I picked up speed to fly even further north. The islands were getting thinner, although my wings were far from tired. They could last for days of straight flying if I wanted.

The sun was starting to sink. I looked at the sea below and spotted a high column of rock stuck up in the middle of the water. Landing there, I wrapped my tail around the thing to secure myself before looking over the ocean.

"Beautiful twilight," Sweyn remarked. I craned my neck to look at him and saw that he was smiling. His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled wildly by the winds, but smiling. I grumbled back in reply as I followed his gaze. It _was_ beautiful. It has been a long time since I sat like this and just watch the world. It has been the first time I've ever carried a human child on my back, though, and honestly, it doesn't feel any different, Sweyn or no Sweyn.

Actually, it does. Now I was happy because I'd been able to share this with a friend. Wind Striker never felt too comfortable going north because of the coldness, but I knew that north held _something_ that was interesting. I've never had a chance, though. And here we were, as far north as we will ever dare to go in one day.

"C'mon," Sweyn said at length. "Let's go home."

I spread my wings and launched myself off the stone pillar, flying back to Death Rock.

Things are…getting interesting. Tomorrow I wouldn't doubt the hatchling would start asking about the Dragonese deal. Of course, I will teach him, and we will see how further we will go.

On our way, I spotted several ships with black sails in the west going north at rather unnatural speed, but I dismissed them as unimportant. They might just be stray merchant ships going to those northern tribes for trade. If they hit an iceberg, I could care less.

Months later, I realized I was an idiot. What kind of trade ship would travel in winter?

* * *

_Ah, the ships. Pay attention to the ships, children. They bring lotsa mayhem. Either way, next chapter:_

_- Sweyn tries to learn Dragonese_

_- Something about the saddle_

_- A gift from rider to dragon and the reason why Tempest moves out of the Dens_

**Review Replies ("Repayment")**

Radec: Indeed. But I imagine the road to that achievement contains lots of pain. Oh well. You have to pay some price to get something, huh? At least Tempest's trust last longer than the bruises.

Whitefang: I'm so sorry! I was having writer's block and then found a new manga to read so I just sort of forgot this for awhile. And thank you for the gorgeous replies you gave me before that I can't answer until now.

Benji: I'm glad you like them! Yes, Sweyn is a runt but he does rock, doesn't he?


	14. Invaders

_Darn the long filler chapters, but this is vital. I won't hold you off much longer. Review replies at the bottom._

_Happy Reading - and REVIEW!_

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**Invaders**

"_No_? Like that? With a hiss at the end?"

"Yes."

"What?"

I repeated the word more slowly, and the hatchling took a moment before he nodded in understanding. "Oh," he said, sounding dissatisfied. Looking down at a notebook, he squiggled something down with a bit of black charcoal on a stick, swinging his legs as he sat on the high pillar of stone twenty meters above the raging sea.

Watching him from my perch on a different rock pillar two meters across, I mentally reviewed the words we have gone through. Sky, flight, _fly_, earth, water, sea, danger, yes, no, human, dragon, ash, fire, tempest (my name, of course – it was the first thing Sweyn had asked to learn), storm, run, hide, the word "and", "then", "after" and "before", not to mention "I", "you", "they" and the various forms of those words.

The hatchling was making remarkable process for a human to learn these words. Teaching him hadn't been all that hard – it was almost exactly like teaching any new dragonet to speak or to fly. Step by step, sound by sound, we were approaching success, although "mastery" was far from the truth. Sweyn was a bit slow on the learning, but considering he already had an entire different set of language, it was understandable.

It had been almost three weeks since we started with the Dragonese. Between this time, however, nothing that interesting happens aside from the fact that Sweyn's voice in Dragonese sounded exactly like a hysterical Terror, high-pitched and shrill, although it was getting better. He'd looked completely puzzled when I'd rolled several times in the snow as I laughed my guts out but did not seem too hurt. Just confused. And judging from the gazes he kept throwing me when I started giggling every now and then, he probably thought I've lost it.

By Odin, I pray he doesn't find out what I was laughing at. The hatchling could be utterly infuriating when he wants to, and the frustrating part is that he made it so that you couldn't stop him. The teasing eyes, the mocking voice, the speed and grace in which he used to carry himself away from my claws whenever we start a chase…Oh, for the love of Freya, I could _still_ feel the frustration in my veins when I thought about it.

"_Thanks, Tempest,_" the familiar hysteric-Terror said suddenly in Dragonese quite fluently, like it had been practiced. My eyes refocused and gazed at the smiling hatchling. He was not looking at me. His eyes were on the foaming ocean beneath, the charcoal pencil being twirled between his fingers. The notebook lied next to him, closed.

"Why?" I asked, attempting to test the hatchling's memory of the words. We have covered the "who", "what", "when", "where", "how", "why" in the very first week. It had taken my hatchling approximately three days to vaguely remember the terms. Now that time has passed, let's see how he fares.

The hatchling was silent for awhile before replying, "I thought the appropriate question would be 'how', not 'why'." He shrugged. "But since you ask…Thanks for, you know, accepting me. I could never find another sentiment creature that doesn't either look at me with pity or spite. My impression to my folks hadn't changed and it probably never will." His voice took on a bitter-wry edge and he set down the pencil on the stone, leaning back so that his eyes were skyward.

Sweyn blew a sigh, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. "I wish the rest of _my_ people could see me as you have," he spoke, letting his arms relax so he could lie back and folded them behind his head, feet from the knees down still dangling over the edge.

My gaze remained on the hatchling for a bit longer. So how exactly had his people viewed him? Did they see him as those children had, all those weeks ago? A loser and a freak? Traitor? Or something worse than that? He doesn't like the sort of attention he was given, that's for sure. But to be honest, I didn't see anything wrong with him. Sweyn was a good runner, acrobatic and a good craftsman – I enjoyed his creations and seeing him make them – albeit he often chose running over fighting. His arms seemed like they couldn't swing an axe (and he probably couldn't, judging from the fact that Sweyn had never, as long as I have known him, wielded an axe or anything heavier than a bow for that matter), but what is so important about that? He could defend himself, that's for sure.

Humans are demanding creatures. That would be another interesting theory into my mental list of humankind studies. I will, hopefully, be able to check it out later in my life. Yeah, like that's going to happen.

"Anyway," Sweyn cut in again, interrupting my thought as he mentioned toward the saddle on my back, "We should try the new thing out on a long flight. Let's go back to that place where you took me when we tested the first saddle. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," I replied airily, stretching out a wing to the hatchling so he could get over to me. Other dragons might have thought it insecure to let anything tread on their wings, but Timberjacks and a few others were exceptions. Our wings are much sturdier than most of our brethrens', formed so that their edges could slice through woods and rocks, especially for the females. Although my wing's length was several meters shorter than a male my age (and the difference will grow with time), females' wings were sharper, stronger and made it easier to cut down even hard rocks if we try.

Others just found the whole "touching the wings" thing an insult. I don't. I really don't see the difference between a human touching my wings and a human touching my teeth. Both can kill, both can maim, and mark my words, I will.

Smiling, the hatchling shook his head and backed up until he was at the other end of the flat circular pillar top (six meters in diameter, I'd reckon). At my quizzical look, his smile turned into a grin before he started running forward, heading toward the two meters of empty space from the rock's edge straight to the saddle.

"Hey, wait, wait!" I stuttered in surprise and a touch of panic, attempting to bring my wing to his feet so he wouldn't fall, but it was too late. He did not listen to a growl I made. Bending his knees, the hatchling sailed over the air and landed on my side, his hands firmly on the front of the saddle where he always held onto when we fly.

Show-off.

"Aw, c'mon, you can't blame a man for trying to train his body," the hatchling grinned at me as he leaned back on the newly-installed chair back on the saddle. His explanation after I exclaimed "What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" had been that I often climbed high trees before throwing myself off into thin air in the case of giant redwoods or climb to the top of high trees and take off. That means I will stay straight up, and he said that frankly, death by falling off me when he has a saddle is embarrassing.

The logical, smart, annoying little…

Aside from that, he'd also installed "pedals", little metal plates on either side of the saddle to help secure his feet and stop them from brushing against my scales. There were also small clips that hung from the saddle so that the hatchling could strap them to him belt when we were going to fly. Bothersome, really. But safe.

The saddle wasn't chaffing, to my relief. Tough scales prevented that, although I fear that if the hatchling doesn't find anything short of leather made from dragon skin (and no way am I going to wear something like that – it was _disturbing_ to even _think_ of), he would have to change the leather straps every five weeks or so. And there was the slightly glowing green puss on the back of the straps. I was a bit freaked-out by it, but I trust the hatchling.

Oh, so now I was worrying about the _saddle_ the _human half-pint_ put on me?

I need therapy. _Now_.

"Tempest, did your brain take flight before you?" my hatchling teased, a smirk in his voice. "Wow, I'm impressed. So, is that effective to all dragons or just this one special Timberjack?"

Okay, half-pint. You wanna play? I'm gonna give you play.

Unfolding my wings, I jumped into open sky and glided gently before shooting upward, gaining altitude. When I reached a certain point, I turned and folded in my wings and dive-bombed.

There was a scream, but it was filled with exhilaration instead of fear, and I found myself a little giddy. He was happy. So should I.

Sea approached fast, since us Timberjacks were shaped like an arrow with wings, but I have done it countless times before. The timing had become an instinct. I waited until the last second to snap out my wings and glided on the water surface, tipping slightly so that my wing tip touched the ocean, sending up sprays.

I roared in delight. It had been so long to truly fly free again, and a loud, animated whoop from the hatchling merely fueled the fire. Speeding up, I aimed at the two narrowly approaching stone pillars; each must be twenty feet in diameter.

"Wait, Tempest! What are you doing? They're too narrow –" the hatchling yelled, a bit of fear entering his voice, but I will show him. He has a right to know what I am capable of. He has a _duty_ to know what I am capable of.

"HOLD!" I howled, fearing the shock might affect the hatchling. I felt his knees dig into my side slightly, and I knew he was ready. Narrowing my eyes and tensing my wings, I soared toward the rock.

There was a sound like a sword sliding across solid rock (which it was), but instead of the usual following noise of the blade breaking, there was only the grating sound as the pillars carved in and collapsed against each other. At least they waited until the rest of me made my way through them.

"Oh, wow…" I heard Sweyn breathed as I slowed down enough so that he could only feel strong winds blowing against his face instead of tornado winds. There was wonder and awe in his voice, and I felt proud. Yep, that is what I am. That is what I will remain in providing I live long enough, for we dragons merely grow stronger, more toward immortal, the longer we live.

And then suddenly, the realization hit. I did not know where it came from or how it wormed its way into my mind, but it was there, and it made sure I notice it.

My hatchling will not live forever. One day, on my walk down my path, I will have to make him a nice grave and give him his resting place.

It was bitter, but it was true. Humans only live so long. They have a natural limit on their life, a sign that said "the end" in the distance. Even though they wouldn't see it yet, it would be there. Ten more centuries and I might be a lonely dragon yet again, strong, scarred from fights and a goddess among hunters who lie around to remember mocking grey eyes and soft smiles that came from a friend long gone.

Time. All that stands between the me right now and the me in the future…is time.

"Tempest, you're flying like an old woman!" Sweyn whined suddenly, but his tone indicated that he was nowhere near serious.

I blinked and shook my head, violently shaking the thought out of my head in the process. No, let's not think about that. The presence feels safer, and this fantasy feels better than biting reality. This forbidden friendship's consequences will be reached sooner or later, but until then, I want to remember all of these moments, all the good times I shared with this child – one I have come to respect and then cherish.

If only fantasies can come true…

"Hey, are you listening?" the call came again, this time an edge of worry in it.

"Yes," I growled back, flapping to bring myself higher into the sky. "I am."

"Well, then, show me how fast you can go," Sweyn said, his voice brightening. "Do those tumbles you did when we first met again! I won't throw up, I promise. I just wanna get used to them."

_What?_ Has the half-pint lost his mind?

But hey, that's actually a good nickname. Half-Pint. Less complicate than "Sweyn" or "the hatchling".

I hesitated for a moment before shaking the problem off. Well, he asked for it. If he throws up, he owes me some foods. Lots of food.

Rising a few more hundred feet, I did a circle before starting the spins. They were as slow as I could manage, speeding up over time on habit as I felt my balance slipping. Then it was all me again. No human, no saddle. Nothing to hold me back. And I danced.

Tumbles. Barrel rolls. Spins. Loop-the-loops. Back flips and sudden dives. Ah, the wind feels glorious. It was between my scales, rustling them, making my skin tingle. If only humans were able to experience this, they would have begged for more and we would have _some_ sort of peace treaty instead of this war that had been fought for nothing…

Oh, right, Half-Pint.

I straightened myself again, spotting a junk of stone jutting out of the water surface and landed. Bending my neck, I looked back at my passenger worriedly.

Half-Pint's face was a bit green, but aside from that, he looked fine. He sat still for a few moments, though, before climbing off to settle himself on the rocky surface and sighed, sounding satisfied with his life. Warbling happily, I settled down next to him, curling my tail around the child to make sure he would not fall and covered him with a wing as usual.

It was near afternoon now. We had each wolfed down a few quick fish before, skipping the usual long hunt in favor of learning Dragonese and now flying. There would not be a sunset for awhile to watch, but it would have to do. And the sky was clear, for once. The ocean was no longer as cold as it had been. Winter was losing its grip. Spring will arrive soon.

And it will be that time again, when we will raid the human dwellings. I still could not quite decide what I would do when that time comes. Will I hide away and accept being called a coward for the sake of Half-Pint's trust? Will I carry myself into battle and defend the little one and prove myself traitor to all of my brethrens? Or will I just kidnap Half-Pint and bring him to a secluded island and wait until the chaos die down and return him?

The last sounded promising, but I doubt he would allow it.

"Hey, Tempest," Half-Pint said suddenly, and I curled my neck until I could look at him, lifting my wing. He was holding up a string with a series of stones on it.

As soon as I saw the "stones", I fell in love with them.

They were glass beads. I have seen several on the corpses of the ones I have slain and have seen slain: beautiful, twisting bits of glass that had been tailored by human hands into small pieces of sparkling beauty. Gold, silver, or simply colored glass. I have loved it for a long time, but I don't take war trophies. Not like I could store them anywhere, really.

"You know, I've been thinking," Half-Pint continued. I nodded, still looking at the shiny beads. "I want to give you something that you can keep. So…Yeah, apparently you're addicted to sparkly things." The beads winked out of sight, making me blink. Half-Pint was looking at me with a highly amused grin.

"What?" I snapped half-heartedly. It _was_ true, though. Shiny things had always been a major distraction to me, broken only by the heat of battle. Nothing else would help it. It was just…The lights dancing around the object. The sparkles. It was…It was…

"It's yours," Sweyn said, reaching toward my head and did something with one of my three right cheek horns. When he pulled back, I could see the bent light from the glass beads at the corner of my eye. My gaze went back to the hatchling, who was smiling at me.

We stared at each other for awhile longer before I broke. Leaning forward, I touched his forehead with my snout, my breathe rustling his hair. Laughing, Sweyn reached up and started scratching behind my head at the hard-to-reach places.

After another while of sitting in companionable silence, Sweyn stood to stretch and nodded at the saddle. "Well, it seems to hold. The leather actually works. Who knew Ghostly Shade's ectoplasm actually works?" he said merrily.

Oh. Ghostly Shade's ectoplasm. That explains the slightly green puss. Those southern dragons' sticky substance as a breath weapon, after being left in the sun for several days, lost its stickiness on the face that wasn't in contact with something first. In other words, it was a two-faced glue. Padding on one face, super tough glue on the other.

Sweyn climbed on, and I felt the saddle shift. Fifteen seconds later, he shouted, "Home!"

"Home," I agreed, grinning. "Home it is." And I took flight.

The string of beads bounced slightly against my scales as I flew, marking our friendship.

0o0o0o0o0

We arrived on Death Rock shortly after (no more tricks performed), crossing the Loki's Ground with ease from above, although it was a bit of effort trying to avoid as many dragons as possible. And that wasn't our only problem.

My people were hectic, streaming toward the human dwellings. They filled sky and forest, forcing me to swim most of the way back as soon as the field of marine rocks had ended. Immediately, I felt a sense of dread. Is this a raid? I was just about to turn around and head back to one of the little isles further south for migration until this mess is over, but Sweyn wouldn't sit with that, as I have feared.

"It's my people," he had said while I attempted to turn around. "I have to see what it is if not give them a hand. _Please_, Tempest! You would have done the same for your people, wouldn't you?"

Following his wish, I reluctantly approached the island and used a large underground tunnel leading from a rock several meters above the sea to the cave near the Twin Oaks ravine (I have done some exploring on my own as well). If I hadn't, he would probably have swum all the way back to his village on his own.

As soon as we reached the oaks, however, shouts and dragon roars echoed the surroundings. Fire could be seen in the distance, melting snow before being put out themselves by dragons and humans dumping snow on them. Neither race wanted a firewood.

"Ey, ey, ey," I growled, using my tail to stop an underage Toxic Nightshade hatchling as he tried to run across the ravine in an excited high. "You are not going anywhere. Go back to your dame, _now_." Looking into deep violet eyes, I remembered with dismay who this was. "Trouble."

"Aw, c'mon, Tempest!" he whined, using the name I have told him as I brought him home. "I wanna fight! I _can_ fight!" And…he hadn't even noticed Sweyn. That carelessness might lead to his death if his attention span is that wide.

"Stay. Put." I snarled, poking the tip of my sharp tail at him (no, it hovers thirty centimeters from his hide) at every word. "I will _not_ be the one delivering the news of your death to your dame, hatchling…"

"Tempest!" Half-Pint's alarmed hiss cut through our conversation, and I turned back to him in irritation. He was looking at the woods right above the ravine with unease. Listening, I could hear footsteps and somebody shouting the human hatchling's name. They were getting closer. Odin.

Trouble was currently gaping at Half-Pint when I turned back to him. "A human!" he snarled.

"A puny and harmless human," I agreed, glad that I hadn't taught Sweyn those words yet. Grabbing the foal-sized hatchling by the back of his neck, I leaped behind one of the oaks and dropped him into a wide grove. "_Stay_, understand?"

Not waiting for his reply, I scrambled up on the tree and rested myself in the thicket. The thing creaked but did not give under my weight, and I remained tense, depending completely on my scales to guard me from harm.

It didn't take long for two familiar figures to burst into the ravine. They ran down the hill quickly to come and stand with Sweyn. One was the dark-haired girl, Alfdis, her blue eyes wild with fear, and the other was Half-Pint's brother. They spoke something frantically, and I was able to make out "invading Vikings", "town under attack", "dragons are helping for some god damn reason" and "the enemies had dragons".

That was about all, though, before a shriek-roar echoed from up the hill and a black figure leaped down, landing a mere five feet from the trio. I tensed as I made out what the figure was.

From up the tree, I stared into the furious toxic green eyes of a saddled Night Fury.

* * *

_Isn't Sweyn crossing the lines a bit? Calling his dragon an old woman when he was _on her back_? That kid has too much guts to be used in the wrong place, don't you agree?_

_We all know where the Night Fury comes from. And I'll detail why exactly he was there without his rider around on the next chapter. Until then, patience, please._

**Review Replies (Saddle and Deal)**

GamerFreak007: Thanks for pointing out the mistakes. It's all fixed and nice now. You really help me there!

TheGirlInTheMentalHospital: You are flattering me! Thank you for your praises, although to be honest, I am not sure I deserve all of them. I am still a beginner and still had much to learn.

Whitefang: Here's your chapter. Yeah, learning the growls and snarls of your dragon...fun. At least you'll know when it wants to eat you, huh?

Radec: Well, here ya go.


	15. Risking Revelation

_Sorry for the cliffhanger -bow and grin evilly- but I am back! All review replies are at the bottom, as always. Your praises make me happy, although to be completely honest, I really don't think I deserve all of them. I am still a beginner in writing and will be for awhile yet._

_Read and review!_

* * *

**Risking Revelation**

My first thought was, "Defend". Narrowing my eyes, I started to get down from my perch on the oak. Night Furies are elusive, dangerous dragons, but if this one decides to harm what I hold dear, I _will_ give my life to fight for what is mine. And the hatchling is _my_ friend.

Sweyn glanced over his shoulder, though, and caught my eye. He shook his head slightly, his eyes flitting toward the small female called Alfdis before returning to me. I froze, weighing my options. The hatchling was asking me to trust him with an enraged Night Fury – heck, a normal one was enough to bring down a Monstrous Nightmare – but if I showed myself to his comrades, there might be consequences. I have been afraid what the other dragons might do once they found out about us, and I believed Half-Pint had the same fear.

But this is a _furious_ Night Fury we are talking about here…

Do I trust the hatchling and his decision? Do I?

My eyes swung back to the black dragon (a male judging by his appearance – males are often pure black with little markings, unlike females whose patterns on their bodies sometimes even glows), who was eyeing the trio distrustfully, but he made no move to leap at them. His teeth, short but sharp, glinted in the weak sunlight. I had a bad feeling what ease those canines provide to tear through human flesh.

I eyed Sweyn's tense back one more time before turned back to the Night Fury. As of now, I will remain out of this and try not to let the humans spot me – or the dragon for that matter. Night Fury fires tend to hurt, a lot. But if there is something wrong, I will interfere.

Maybe if I am lucky, I can at least hold him off while the rest run to save their backsides. But his eyes told of a lifetime of experience, and I don't like that. I would not stand a chance if it were to be a serious fight-to-the-death. No matter how big I am, experience speaks for the dragon, not her claws or size. My demise is rather a bit too clear for my liking if I tangle with the Night Fury.

Another thought processed, leaving fear in its trail: If I cannot save myself, how can I save my hatchling?

"Damn!" Half-Pint's brother cursed vehemently, raising his already bloody sword. Human's, the smell told me. He stepped in front of Half-Pint and gestured with his other free hand to the oaks. "Get Alfdis and run, Sweyn. I'll deal with this oversized reptile. Go!"

"Lugar, wait!" the hatchling was already protesting, stepping up to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. The Night Fury growled dangerously and made them both step back. My blood went cold for a second before it passed again.

"Sweyn, this isn't the _time_!" Lugar growled under his breath, pushing his brother (who was a head and a half shorter than him) back. "Go now. You are the fastest kid on the island. Get Alfdis somewhere safe. She's the chieftain's daughter. If they don't want her, I don't know what else they want."

"Don't you get it, moron?" Sweyn shouted back, exasperated. He ducked to the other side of his brother and grasped the sword's hilt. "If you fight, you will get _killed_! Imagine the look in our parents' eyes if that happens!"

The Night Fury's eyes remained two slits of suspicion and rage, but he still did nothing. I glanced at the siblings. Why can't they pay attention to the _dragon_ in front of them instead of each other?

"…savages! They will kill us if we don't finish them first!" Lugar's voice pierced my attention and I turned to look at him. His one remaining eye (a dark blue) was filled with frustration and he was throwing Sweyn an odd look like he has gone mad. Maybe he did, defending a dragon and all.

Half-Pint looked at Lugar for one second before drawing his dagger and plunged the hilt against the older male's gut. I winced, hearing his breath went out in a "whoop" as he dropped to the snow. My hatchling muttered something that might have been an apology and kicked the sword away.

"Alfdis, if you want to live, back off," I heard Half-Pint say whilst he turned to face the Night Fury. My heart sped up and I twitched, wanting to be down there and protect him. And I could. Nothing held me back from doing what I wanted. Nothing except my trust to him.

And damn it, that is the line I am not willing to cross or destroy.

Lugar was currently struggling upright again, although I only saw him out of the corner of my eye. The Night Fury had relaxed slightly at Half-Pint's action and his pupils had widened slightly, but I was willing to bet he hadn't trusted Sweyn fully yet. Heck, no dragon with any experiences with a human will.

"Sweyn, what the hell's gotten into you?" I heard Alfdis' voice, frightened, shrieked. But Sweyn completely ignored her, instead focusing on the Night Fury, who was still growling softly. He didn't seem inclined to harm the human children, though, and I found a bit of my fear drawing away. There might be no need for a fight if this keeps up. Hopefully. If Half-Pint doesn't do something stupid.

Which, by the way, is as thin as human skin.

Half-Pint put a boot on Lugar's shoulder and pressed the older male down. "I have no weapons," he said carefully to the Night Fury. Liar. I know you have at least five hidden blades all over your body. But the smell of steel was almost hidden by his own scent, the smell of roasted fish and even the smell of the sea breezes, so there is a chance the other dragon cannot notice. "Why don't we strike a truce and let us go back to our village, talk to the Vikings that you definitely came with, and figure out what this entire mess is about?"

Yeah, convincing. To a newly-hatched dragonet, maybe. And I stretch the _maybe_.

"Sweyn, did you get hit on the head?" Lugar's voice, muffled by the snow, floated up indignantly, but he did not try to get up again. His body was as tense as Sweyn's bowstring, though, and perhaps so was I. We all were. Our only hope was to somehow make the dragon not tear them apart right then and there.

The Night Fury started to circle to the left, making Half-Pint shift with it, his back turned to me. My breath was growing erratic and I could hear the female's heart beat faster whilst she backed off toward the tree, a small and pathetic dagger clutched in her hands.

"You are strange," the Night Fury remarked at last, his voice mixed with a bit of surprise and amusement.

My hatchling hesitated for a few seconds, obviously struggling to remember the meaning of the words before he said in human tongue, "Is it that obvious?"

That managed to let the Night Fury drop most of his hostility almost immediately. His pupils widened in shock. "You understand me, human?" he demanded. Good. Keep it up, sweet. We might all get out of this one alive without having to lose an eyeball or such.

"I'm learning," the hatchling replied after another pause. "So, uh, does this mean no mauling?"

Lugar wasn't sitting well with this. "Sweyn, by Odin's eyeballs, what the hell are you…? Wait, are you _talking_ to the dragon?" the male demanded, trying to sit up again. Sweyn didn't look at him, but I saw his foot increased pressure slightly to indicate for his sibling to stay down.

The Night Fury, with one eye opened wider than the other in a gesture that looked creepily familiar to a human raising one of their eyebrows, started to relax somewhat. I saw the tension went out of Sweyn and Lugar's shoulders as well and was about to relax myself when a terrified shriek made me want to jump. It did to the others, though.

Looking down at my oak's root, I saw with a sinking heart that Alfdis and Trouble had finally met. The girl was pointing her knife at the growling dragonet, both of them giving off the fear-scent I was so familiar with. I was just about to pray to all the gods up there that this would not ruin the –

"_Get away from me!_" Alfdis shrieked, throwing the knife at Trouble.

– Delicate situation.

Holy crap. Alfdis, I hate you.

"Whoa!" Trouble jumped back to avoid the knife and scuttled backward as fast as he could, his violet eyes wide. "What the hell, woman – ?" Oh, that's new. The dragonet knew how to swear in the human tongue. I will never hear the end of this with his dame.

Seeing the human female reaching for the other dagger on her belt and Lugar throwing Sweyn off with a hasty apology and reached for his sword on the ground, both I and the Night Fury acted as one. We are, after all, dragons, and all species have the instinct to protect the young ones. Besides, human plus something pointy is never a good sign.

I could see the other dragon lunged for Half-Pint's brother out of the corner of my eye as I landed before Alfdis, careful not to touch her or lash my tail at the Trouble-maker behind. That's _it_. This dragonet needs some harsh teaching. I will make sure to inform his dame of this and personally see to his punishment.

To my relief, it didn't take much to dishearten Alfdis from fighting. One feral snarl was enough to send her staggering back. She fell on her butts and started crawling backward again. Behind her, Sweyn was shouting, drawing his dagger and looking ready to plunge at the Night Fury.

I had to make a choice. Either I protect Trouble and let Sweyn anger the Night Fury which will most likely result in his death or launch myself after him and leave Trouble wide open for trouble to come (excuse the pun).

My friend or my kind?

_I don't know. I don't know. I don't know – but I have to do something._

"STOP!" I roared as loud as I could, and to my surprise, the entire ravine froze. Four pair of eyes with different colors looked at me, shocked, and I could feel another one looking at my tail from behind. Breathing heavily for a few seconds before stepping forward, using my long tail to brush Alfdis aside and glared at the Night Fury.

"Get off of him," I snarled. "He has no weapon. Not anymore."

Indeed, Sweyn was prying the sword loose from his brother's grasp and threw it away so that it disappeared into the woods above. Then he himself backed off from the dragon, closer to me. Almost instinctively, I wrapped my tail around him protectively and continued to glare.

The Night Fury looked from me to him before he jumped back, clear of the hatchling's brother and let him to get up dazedly. Then they all stared at us again, like this was totally and utterly unbelievable. The Night Fury was somewhat less shocked, however, but mildly surprised like he had suspected this before and we only confirmed it.

"S-Sweyn," Alfdis said at last, her voice shaking, "What…what is the meaning of this?"

"Tempest?" Trouble's voice floated to me, stunned and frightened, "What are you doing?"

I said nothing for awhile before turning my head to look at him. The dragonet had sunken into a pouncing position and remained frozen in it. "Run home," I told him. "I'll find you and explain it all later. I promise. Just…don't tell any dragon." It sounded lame even to my ears, but that made Trouble move. Looking at me one last time, he turned and bounced off into the woods. I desperately hoped that he listened to the last sentence before returning my attention the crew before us.

"Are you his dragon?" the Night Fury demanded, looking at me. He was settled in an attack position, and I lowered myself into a crouch as well, just in case.

"Yes, I am," I answered, not sure if Sweyn was able to follow the conversation at all. Apparently he didn't care, for he was looking at Alfdis and then his brother guiltily but determinedly. He wasn't going to deny this.

The humans were looking at Half-Pint as though he was something that had just fallen out of the sky and landed in front of them to do one of those weird dances called jig-dance performed by the annual trading ships' inhabitants. Before long, though, Lugar's face twisted into something that was close to awe and he opened his mouth to say something.

"TOOTHLESS! _Where are you?_" another humanoid voice yelled from up the ravine. I could hear approaching footsteps and dragon shrieks, calling the same name. The Night Fury turned at the noises, and so did the rest of the crowd.

Sweyn didn't though. His eyes found mine. "Go, Tempest," he hissed. "Two humans and a dragon is enough. I don't want the news of this to fly across the island."

I looked at him. There was nothing I wanted more than to stay right here by his side and bear the crashing world together, but the steel in his mind repelled that thought. He could explain to his people, and I have Trouble to talk to, along with any dragon that might have caught winds of this.

But I don't want to leave…I _can't_. Just like I can't guide that fireball to his small, asleep body what seemed like a lifetime ago.

A hand found its way behind my cheek horns. "_Trust me_, Tempest," Half-Pint's voice was gentle but firm. "Somehow, this will turn out alright. I will make sure of it."

That was doubtful, but I do trust his words, so I reluctantly backed away. With one last look at the still staring gang, the Night Fury and my hatchling's wistful eyes, reflecting my fear and my uncertainty under a lot of locks, I turned and fled.

0o0o0o0o0

I did not go anywhere far. Returning to the cave near the ravine, I was content to sit there and wait until tomorrow or something when a dark purple dragon with a strong square jaw and purple undersides of its stomach and wings appeared in front of me. Curious, nervous reptile eyes blinked in the dark.

"Tem…Tempest?" the familiar voice stuttered.

"Trouble," I greeted tiredly, opening one wing. "Come in. I believe…I owe you an explanation."

There was a pregnant pause before Trouble, with some shuffling, came in. He settled himself in front of me, circling himself with his long tail and looked expectant. He did not meet my eyes, though. It was impolite to do that among dragons greater than you. Only Lavabreath, Wind Striker and of course, Sweyn, had looked directly at my eyes. Only the latter had done it so frequently without me feeling uncomfortable.

"So, um, can you tell me everything?" Trouble prodded at my sudden silence. I blinked at him. "From the beginning? Of…of course, you don't have to, but –"

"We met during my first raid," I cut in. "He was sitting on a rooftop amidst the burning human buildings…"

And so, I told him. I told him everything, beginning to end, moments of happiness we shared, the fireball, the oaks, the flights we took together, Sweyn's teasing and our hunts, the chases, the pleasure I felt when I saw him smile, the satisfactory I felt when he laughed, and of course, how he saved Trouble.

"I remembered," the Toxic Nightshade admitted. "I didn't dare believe it, though, and my dame called it rubbish. She said I was imagining things." And still he doubts it; I could hear it in his voice.

"This is no fantasy," I told him. "Sweyn is real. What he did – what he chose to do is real. I can't believe it at first, either. It just doesn't seem logical."

We sank into silence after that. Then, "So where is…Sweyn…now?"

"With his people, sorting out his own problems while I sort it out with you." I was feeling so tired. Things had happened so fast, and it left me spent. I just wanted some rest.

"You aren't worried?"

Yes, of _course_ I am. I want to fly to that blasted village and knock down every house in my sight until I found the hatchling and see how he was doing. "No, I'm not. The hatchling is capable of doing that himself."

"Are you going to tell any other dragon about this?" Trouble prodded.

Shut up, you. I want to sleep.

"No," I answered wearily. "Not yet. I don't want to think of the consequences. Now let me rest. And don't let a peep of this gets out. Please, Trouble. Can I trust you?"

There was a pregnant pause. Then, too shaky for my liking, "Yeah."

I opened one eye to look at the little dragonet for a long while until he started to shift uncomfortably before closing it again. "Good." Then I added as an afterthought, "Thank you. And you can stay here for the night, too, if you wish."

That concluded our conversation. I closed my eyes, my hatchling's problem still nagging at my consciousness. But sleep came strangely easy, though, and soon my thoughts started to jump out of focus.

"Pretty decoration on your cheek horn there, _Tempest_," a voice, a dragon's, spoke from outside the cave. There was high amusement in it.

"Half-Pint made it," I muttered sleepily. "Good night." And I drifted off.

I did not notice that Trouble's voice was not that deep, nor is there need to stress my name like this dragon did. I also did not stay awake long enough to see the large golden eyes at the cave's mouth.

I was a fool. I was a damn fool.

* * *

_So, Lugar got the chance to hug a Night Fury (in a very warped sense), Sweyn got the honor of talking to one, Alfdis had the chance to be freaked out by a dragon not yet recorded in the Berk Dragon Manual and Tempest had the chance to freak out. Yay for everyone. I think._

_Alfdis needs courage practice if she's gonna be the next chieftain. I hate her. I hate Trouble too...somewhat._

**Review Replies (_Invaders_)**

**just me: **Sometimes I wonder why Tempest wasn't freaked out by his seemingly mind-reading skill...

**Spyden:** Thanks for the review and the warning. Yes, you are right, that happens often. But unlike most of my stories, this one has its path drawn and set up on a map beforehand, so I _will _finish it. This summer, hopefully, before we moved away. That'll be hell. I'll allow detours, but since we are nearly over with the rising action stage, I'll not be able to allow much of them.

Once again, I appreciate your praises, but I still have much to learn. This is only a beginner's work. And thanks for the beta offer! I don't want to bother you, but I'm considering :)

**QuestionDeca:**Toothless did not fly there. And your guess about why he was chasing them is partly correct. Stay tuned to find out the entire problem!

**Wirewolf: **My money's on the Berk folks too, mate! And the iPhone keyboard frustrates me.

**Toothless-the-nightfury: **Thanks! I will!

**Whitefang: **I'm totally with you on Toothless. Although that's a bit wicked, not having any faith in my own creation...Oh, well. Sorry, Tempest!

**Medicant Bias:** Toothless did not fly there. The meeting was brief, but Tempest and Toothless will meet again soon. I think Hiccup read Toothless' emotions more than listening to his language, though. Yes, the two Original Dragon Riders will have to meet some time in the future. Let's hope it doesn't involve a fight, daggers and bows. Or angry dragons. No. Definitely not angry dragons. I will see to that. And no, Hiccup wouldn't be happy with the attack had he been there, which he wasn't. He was somewhere far, far away...Stay tuned to find out!

**Elegrabea: **Thank you! You are so kind! And once again, your praises make me warm and fuzzy inside, but really, you are being too kind. This story has a long way to go. I was thinking of abandoning it some time back, but then two reviews came and it inflates to this. Wow. The power of reviews...Even greater than the Force itself!

...Did I forget anyone?

_A/N (again): I am sorry for the crappy excuse of a chapter this made up. It does not satisfy me, but for the sake of pacing, it is necessary. You can guess the golden-eyed thing by yourself. And review! That is what kept me moving so fast!_

_Love y'all with all my heart!_


	16. Night Visitor

_I am back! And this chapter is beta-ed!_

_Special thanks to my amazing Beta, _**Spyden**_! Everyone, give her a round of applause! At least, I think she's a she. Sorry, friend, I forgot to ask. -palm to the face- I'm a moron, aren't I?_

_Review replies and personal thoughts at the bottom. As of now, please enjoy and review._

* * *

**Night Visitor**

"Timberjack."

"Go away before I eat you," I mumbled, shifting in my sleep. It was comfortably warm and I could feel a bit of breeze outside the cave's mouth, too. That made it all the more cozy. My everything, from snout to tip of tail, wanted to just relax and let the hours go by. After all, what could require my immediate attention?

"_Timberjack!_" the voice repeated again, this time coming out as an irritated hiss. The speaker was highly annoyed. Not that I care, really.

"I said, go away!" I snapped back, starting to get irritated myself. Why couldn't this stupid intruder go away and leave me alone? What have I ever done wrong to Life? And Sweyn does _not_ count. He is not a wrong. He is just another significant right.

"So I suppose you do not want to know the fate of your rider?"

Rider? Sweyn? This one has news of Sweyn?

Instantly, I was awake. My eyes didn't need time to adjust, since it was still night outside. Standing in front of the cave's mouth was the Night Fury. He was still saddled, but his stance held no offense, nor was it as tense as in the afternoon. His green eyes were normal, so I relaxed. This one has not come to fight. Not this time.

"It's you," I said, inclining my head as a gesture of respect, avoiding his direct gaze. "Greetings, elder."

"Drop the elder. It makes me feel old," the Night Fury replied easily, making his way into the cave and settled on the floor behind me. As he curled his tail around himself, I noted that one of his tailfins was fake. It was a copy of the other, made of leather. Although nowhere near the original, I daresay it was rather well-crafted.

"But you _are _old."

The Night Fury snorted. "Yes, thanks for pointing that out. I am a mere two millennia. That's about adult for my kind."

"And that's about late adult for mine," I retorted. "That's enough to be considered an elder."

The older dragon eyed me, slightly annoyed. "Change of subject – I am here to inform you that your human is quite fine. He is held captive like the others in this island's village while the chieftain searches for my human. But it is useless. He is not here." His voice was dark, and the undertone of white-hot anger underneath caused me to shiver slightly.

"It's a relief," I remarked, allowing a part of my worry for Sweyn to fade. I decided to ignore the last part. Then I looked at the Night Fury again. "What is your name?"

"Toothless," the dragon said, completely unabashed.

"_Toothless_?" I repeated, my jaw slightly opened. "Was your dame _blind_ when she named you?" Offensive question, but I could not find a better way to put the phrase. Well, I could, but not at that moment.

"She did not give me that name," Toothless replied airily, not offended at all. "My human came up with that." Is that _pride_ I heard in his voice? Nah, can't be.

"Then may I ask, what the heck is wrong with your human?"

Toothless' eyes narrowed suddenly. "Do. Not. Insult him," he snarled.

"That doesn't hide the truth. What made him call you Toothless when you obviously have teeth?" I said, passing over the subject as briefly as I could. It would be better to dismiss it than to argue, and I am _not_ backing down.

Toothless tilted his right ear slightly. "That…Let's leave that to another time when we aren't in a hurry. It's long," he replied flippantly. "Long and complicate."

I nodded. We sank into silence for a few moments before I broke it, "So do you have any other news for me? Regarding Sweyn, I mean."

Toothless didn't answer right away. Instead, he seemed to think about it before he said, "Your human is, as I said, fine. His sibling is questioning him endlessly, though. The female that accompanied them is silent to her sire or any other human, although I imagine she will shake the answers out of him at the next chance she sees the hatchling."

"He is not harmed in any way?"

"No."

"By the _humans_? _Your_ humans?"

Toothless hesitated. Several alarm flags and fear raised in my head. "Night Fury, I swear to you, if my hatchling so much as has his arm broken –"

"His wrist is dislocated," Toothless cut in. "But no, no broken bone." My body tensed. Oh, if only I can set a human aflame…An image flitted through my mind but I quickly brushed it away. It held, though. It _refused_ to let go. My ears seemingly could hear the hatchling's pained scream. Fear raised like one of those tsunamis that sometimes overwhelmed a part of Death Rock, threatening to crash down.

"If he hadn't slammed the dagger hilt into Snotlout's face, then that would not have –"

"_I don't CARE!_" I snarled viciously, standing up. Creative images of Half-Pint's current condition continued to flash before my eyes, fueling the already boiling anger and terror. "I don't give a _damn_ who started it first. You should have understood, Night Fury. You have a human friend, too!"

Toothless rose with me, taking on a defensive stand. "I understand!" he snarled back. "But the one you wish to pay the price is _my_ human's _friend_. Get past me before you can touch him. And he has a Monstrous Nightmare as well."

"Then I'll kill the Nightmare," I said coldly, decisively. "I'll kill every dragon in my way…if it means my hatchling is safe."

"Do as you wish," Toothless answered evenly like this was just what he had expected. "But understand this – you will have to get through me first before you get through them."

Once again, we sank into silence. But this one was tense and my heavy breathing dominated most of it. The Fury was completely calm, his heartbeat staying as it was. This seems almost…natural to him. And then I realized: maybe it was. Maybe this was not the first time he has warned another dragon to back down from his human friends.

Toothless' eyes were unrelenting, and while not threatening, they held a firm gaze in them like an unshakable stone wall that will not crumble no matter what it has to endure. This was _normal_ to him. He has killed a dragon in his friend's defense before, and he will do it again.

Against the ancient green orbs, I stand no chance.

"Very well," I growled, settling down once more. Toothless relaxed and sank back down again. "Any _good_ accomplishment came from the sprained wrist?"

Toothless paused again, seemingly thinking about it. "If you count the offender's broken nose, then yes," he admitted.

"Good. Allow me to at _least_ toss him into the ocean the next time I see him?" I asked. I wasn't taking no for an answer anyway.

"Within six meters of the water surface. No broken bones. Else you will deal with Fireworm, and she is several notches above 'protective'."

"I will…keep that in mind." And try not to maim the Nightmare too badly either, I thought silently. But that would be rather hard to promise. Even now, I could already feel the need to hurt something by just listening to the event being told second-handedly. At this rate, I would most likely turn murderous when the real action comes.

All the _better_.

Silence fell. Again. This one wasn't tense, though. I used the opportunity to get everything sorted out in my head while Toothless watched the moon outside. I looked at him and realized there was wistfulness in his eyes. That drew my attention to another question.

"Where is your human?"

The Night Fury turned to look at me again. "He is missing," he said after several seconds. "We are trying to find him. This is the third island we have invaded."

"And there is still no sign of him?"

Toothless shook his head, seemingly frustrated. "That was what I meant to ask you as well. Have you seen anything…strange around here lately?" he inquired. "Like odd ships or transportations going in and out of this Death Rock or something?"

"Due to the Loki's Ground – the base of small sharp sea rocks surrounding the isle – we don't have many visitors. Except for the traders coming in every spring and summer…I don't think we have any other wanderer going about," I replied. "Sweyn kept me preoccupied these weeks. Why not go ask the other dragons? Our Dens lie on the furthermost east of the isle."

At this, Toothless gave me a wry, sour look. "There is a reason you fear the discovery of your friendship with the human you call Sweyn. I fear the same. I might be powerful, but one cannot hope to stand against a thousand."

True.

"I gave up my people's respect when I decided to befriend my human," Toothless continued. "You have as well. You should have realized it by now, Timberjack. Or should I say, _Tempest_." He looked at me as if he was considering something before standing.

"I should go," the Night Fury said, moving for the cave's mouth. "The other humans will freak out once they found out I was gone." His voice took on a slight disdainful note. "Especially Astrid. She has been picking up my human's paranoia a bit too fast for my taste."

With that, he disappeared into the night. I craned my neck to see his black form standing out against the white, moonlit snow for awhile before he vanished into the black woods beyond. Toothless, huh? Ridiculous name, but I guess he liked it not because it was noble, but because his human gave him that name. He regards this man – or child – highly, then. Never have I heard of a bonded Night Fury before, and I knew that they take great pride in their status.

Yet this one has accepted a human to saddle him. That means either he was incredibly giving or this human was incredibly special. I want to meet this human, one way or another. I will see why Toothless liked him so much then.

"I know you are awake, Trouble," I said, my eyes still on the woods where the peculiar Night Fury had disappeared. "Your breathing changed."

A rather indignant voice said from underneath my wing, "But I made sure it's the same as when I was asleep!"

"Do try harder, then. But not bad. I was almost fooled."

"_Almost_ isn't good enough."

"Then learn. When you wake, your breathing will automatically hitch a bit whether you want it or not. The key is to try and fool others into thinking you only shifted and already went back to sleep right away. It takes years to completely master the technique, since you don't know how you breathe when you are asleep. Asking others that are awake and around you when you sleep will help as well."

Several seconds of silence passed.

"Okay. I'll try that next time."

"Good."

"Thanks for the lesson."

It took awhile before that finally sank in. _Lesson?_

Oh, right. I was giving him a lesson without even realizing it. Suddenly, I had the image of a smirking human child with black hair and mocking grey eyes sitting atop a random boulder, smirking at me and telling me, _"You are growing o-o-old, Tempest."_

My mouth twisted into a rueful half-grin. Half-Pint had shown me much that I would never have had the opportunity to see without knowing him. But sometimes, the impressions he made to me cut deep, ready to pop out any chance I gave them. He was affecting me more than I cared to admit.

And the rage I had shown a short while back there…That had been meant for those who stole my foods or attempt to steal my foods. At least, it used to be. I have never found an individual in my life that is more worthy to defend than my foods. And here I am, venting that anger out for the sake of a human.

One I have come to respect and adore.

But the reason, except for _just because__,_was…still beyond me. When I think about it, there was no better reason. He is a human, he _threw a knife at me_, he looked into my eyes all the time while that was supposed to be a gesture performed only by my equal – he certainly is _not_ – and he insulted me openly like I was his annoying sister or something, even though we're just joking around.

But in the end, I still cannot bring myself to harm him or get myself to stop enjoying his smiles and his happiness. Half-Pint meant too much. He meant the key to another hoard of knowledge I had not known before. A lovable if not a bit too disrespectful talking-walking key.

Friendship, love, adoration, respect, _trust_. He has given me too much. And I have given him…what? What have I given him? A chance to enjoy the sky? But that was only one. Surely there must be more…

"_Toothless_ isn't much of a dignified name," Trouble remarked at last, turning my attention to him.

"No, it isn't," I agreed. And it really isn't. I mean, "Toothless"? What kind of name is that? It did not even _start_ to fit a _Night Fury_, for heaven's sake. And yet he wielded it proudly, like it was the best name in the world for him.

Trouble piped up again, once more forcing me out of the current thought. "I think he came here to talk to you because he wanted to apologize," he observed.

"Yeah. Probably," I agreed again.

Curling my tail around myself again, I attempted to return to sleep. All the things I have heard from the Night Fury and his disappeared rider came back, becoming a swirling mess in my brain. So that was why the other Vikings had attacked. Then realization hit.

These other Vikings have _dragons_. Dragons with riders.

There are others just like us. I and Sweyn were not the first of our kinds to form a partnership, after all. To be honest, that…sort of disappointed me. But it doesn't matter. It feels kind of good, though, to know that you were not the first to do something.

"Tempest?" Trouble called.

"Yes, hatchling?" I answered, trying not to sound exasperated. Patience, Tempest. Patience. He is young, and he will probably ask if I had really considered fighting the Night Fury or not –

"When you…when you said that you will kill the Nightmare if it means your human friend is safe," the Toxic Nightshade began before hesitating.

"Go on," I prodded gently.

"Are you serious? Are you gonna do that for real?"

Now it was my turn to hesitate. Should I tell him the truth? Maybe I should not, but he has some right to know. He hadn't turned and run for the nearest adult dragon and told on me after I shared all those memories with him, and he had even had the heart to _believe_. Yes, I think I should at least gift him with the truth.

"Yes," I replied firmly, meeting his eyes. "Yes, I would."

_For my friend…Yes, I would._

There was a shred of fear in the dragonet's eyes at the statement, but I closed my eyes and draped a wing over both my head and Trouble, since he was so small. "Sleep," I ordered. "You'll go back to your dame tomorrow morning. I'll get you as close to her as I can without anyone seeing me with a saddle."

Toothless' earlier words echoed back. _When I chose to befriend my human, I gave up my people's respect. You should have realized that as well, Timberjack._

I shivered. No, I did not give up only my people's _respect_. Now they will kill me on sight. I am, after all, the traitorous dragoness who sided with a human.

For once, full realization struck me hard. I have turned every dragon on this island…into an enemy.

* * *

_Uh-huh. And now she realizes it. Tempest's brain works too slow when it comes to reality. I wonder if she blames Sweyn for that. A bit of thinking on her part here, and Toothless had found a way to apologize without saying he is sorry. Smart Night Fury. This Toothless is rather mature, huh? Tempest will be in for a surprise if she sees him around Hiccup._

_And as general reply to the "pregnant pause" phrase I used last chapter mentioned by three reviewers: I'M SO SORRY! I did not know what the heck got into me, and now that I reread it, the phrase seem weird to me as well. It came from a Lord of the Ring fanfiction I was reading, but I forgot the name of the fic. But it sounds kind of wrong..._

**Review Replies (_Risking Revelation_)**

**Pterodactyl:** Ah, I am honored by your praises! Really, your words mean a lot to me. And I shall try not to run into any writer's block before I finish this story.

**Spyden: **Aw, c'mon, I love to hear from long-winded reviewers! :D They make me all fuzzy and warm inside. I already answered to your review in private before, so all I can say is: I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS STORY AND AGREED TO BE MY BETA!

**Medicant Bias: **Hm, this is a cliffhanger? Actually, it's not, but I'd say this is a "pending clue". It's just a sort of foreshadowing, really. And I am glad you reviewed!

**Toothless-the-nightfury_: _**I have seen better writers, my friend. This is just a small little glittering stone that is not all that catchy and only attracts some pairs of eyes. But I'm glad you like it! Keep up reviewing!

**wakazimaru: **Maybe. I don't know. That will happen later. I suppose...But thanks for the praise! I am very, very glad you enjoy this little unfamous fun I whipped up. And about being the best HTTYD OC story out there...I don't know. Maybe somebody had a better and more original one? We can never be sure.

**Whitefang: **Well, here you go, my friend. This is my take on Toothless. Fans of the "Toothless is just a cute bear-sized wittle dwagon to be cuddled" out there, sorry. Dragons can be mature, you know, and seeing how Toothless fight, I'd say he'd had some years of experience behind him.

_So, yeah. Closing note. Just another filler chapter. Hoped it did not make you wonder when this one will actually put some action into this thing again. This chapter is to mainly show a few revelations on Tempest's part and do some interacting between our favorite (and only) Night Fury and our (hopefully equally loved) Timberjack. I'll see what I can tuck into the next chapter._

_Once again, I thank you for your patience! And remember to review!_


	17. From Hunter to Hunted

_Yes, I'm back! With me, I bring the new installment of this story to you folks and some bad news along with it. After this chapter, I'm going on break since my internet access sort of got confiscated. I'll probably have it back this weekend, though, and take some more time to write the next chapter...so, yeah, I'm afraid you guys might have to wait a bit._

_Pray that I finish this thing before we move. Else this would be forced to be abandoned, since it took nearly half a year last time after we moved for me to get a computer._

_On a completely different and more positive note - Spyden is a_ _gentleman__. I apologize for my stupidity. And thank you. You are wonderful. For not suing me and being my beta._

* * *

**From Hunter to Hunted**

Ever since the start of the relationship between the human hatchling and I, there has always been fear that the news would get out. The dragons will turn on me; Sweyn will most certainly be killed, and so will I. Nobody wanted differences. They wanted things to remain the way they have always been. And I understand that. I myself feared changes. Things feel more secured if they just keep going in a predictable circle, so the last generation could ask for the help of the generation before them and so on.

My complication…This one, I stood on my own. I knew the consequences; I've certainly known that no good whatsoever would come out of this. Yet I pushed on, not willing to break this friendship. There was finally somebody I could totally trust, and I knew I was being selfish – but I couldn't let go.

After the talk with the Night Fury, that fear intensified tenfold and I nearly couldn't sleep with it. My heart beat faster whenever a vague reminder of what could happen flitted through my mind for the reminder of the night. But things have gone too far now, and no matter how much I regretted it, how much I wanted to turn back time (but do I _really_? That would mean to destroy my chance at meeting Sweyn) to the very beginning, to that raid that started it all and when we were still safe from knowing each other. I would have avoided that alley. I would never have looked upon that rooftop and met those captivating eyes. We would have lived normal lives.

_Half-lives_. No friendship. No knowledge. No way for a human to learn what "sky" truly means and certainly no way for a dragoness to know that a human could be able to make such beautiful crafts without involving violence.

_Truly, do I want that?_ I questioned myself as I lied there, awake in that cave, listening to the forest's sounds that could only be heard at night and the quiet breathing of Trouble. Did I want to live a life without him, now that I really have my hatchling? Of course not. I wouldn't risk that smile for anything, when he really, really smiled and when he was really happy.

But the _point_ was: I knew the consequences of this forbidden friendship. I feared it. I knew one day they must be paid.

I just…didn't expect it to be this soon.

0o0o0o0o0

Near dawn, I was awakened by a growling noise that was positively threatening. "Well, well, well," it said, "Look at the slumbering traitor." It was tailed by a chuckle, as if the speaker found what he said to be funny.

My sleepiness fled me like a Night Fury before an eel, and I rolled onto my feet as fast as I could, my eyes searching for the source of the voice. Even as I moved, cold fear settled in my stomach. I understood what had happened right away, somehow, and I nearly shook with the realization.

My eyes caught the gaze of an adult Monstrous Nightmare, barely smaller than myself, his body streaked with red and blue, looking at me greedily like I was a prize he was going to bring back and get some very good thing out of my capture. Maybe that _would_ be true.

"Don't try to run," he cooed nastily, yellow eyes narrowed. "The news of your friendship with the human scum already got out –"

My tail flashed, and in a second, I already had his head under one of my foreclaws. _Kill him_, my conscience said. _Kill him and run_. But there would be no good in killing him. I could hear the tale-tell noises dragons made as they moved toward us. They are coming. Quickly.

"Trouble," I hissed.

Silence was my answer.

A flash of white-hot anger rose, along with something unexplainable. Betrayal. The dragonet did this, didn't he?

"Your little friend was quite brave," the Nightmare remarked. "Took us some time to drag the truth out of him, even with all the claws and 'special treatments' we gave the puny tag-along." And once more, relief rose only to be drowned again by anger and fear.

"What have you done to him?" I growled, pressing harder. "Where is he?"

"With his dame. He was delivered there after we made sure he wouldn't talk," the dragon sneered. "Don't worry. He's safe. You, on the other hand…" He did not finish that sentence, nor did he have to.

I had to think fast. The brightest option I had now was to run and wait until I encountered Wind Striker or somebody I could trust and maybe beg them for a favor. Or maybe I could go straight to the village, kidnap Sweyn and away we go, never to come back here again. I couldn't even trust my friends anymore, now that I thought about it. I was, after all, a traitor.

There were distinct sounds that alerted me of a lot of big things coming my way and the chittering of Terrible Terrors. They were all demanding my blood, most likely. I glanced at the Nightmare under my claw again. He was grinning madly, his eyes full of triumph. He knew his fellows are going to come and help him get me down.

But then again, dragons don't really care if we murder each other or not, really. This is the wild, after all.

I brought up my other foreleg and slammed it down at the higher area of the neck, the most vulnerable point of a dragon. Hearing the sound of bone snapping, I pulled away and watched as the lizard twitched some more before he stilled.

Glancing back at the dead dragon in the cave once more, I jumped outside and looked at the sky. It was a beautiful day. The sky was perfectly clear and the air was not too chilly. Perfect time for a long flying trip to one of the southern islands or something, really. But this day would mark my death or at the very least, banishment.

Cursing the gods for mocking me, I took a short running start and flew, keeping to the clouds so that my scent would not be caught and my body would not be seen. Having scale mutation was…not half as bad as you'd like to think.

There was a sudden shriek from above me, and I slowed before barrel-rolling to the left, barely dodging a streak of blue as it dived for what would have been my back had I not moved in time. Not rising to the challenge, I mingled with the clouds again, keeping my ears and instincts open this time. This was a _cloud_, so sight was nearly useless.

I could hear it: faint sounds of powerful wing beats fifty or so meters to my left. A Timberjack, I'd think, or a very, very big Nightmare. I'm not putting past any of those two possibilities. Either way, neither would be the least bit friendly, I'm afraid.

Flying higher, I didn't dare showing myself in the open sky, merely passing from one cloud to another as they connected. When I was clear of the fluffy-looking material for a few seconds, though, I glanced around to see that three different dragons had already started to circle me, and they were closing in.

Gronkles. I snorted in derision despite the situation. Truly, if I was such a dangerous traitor, did they have to send those fat sausages after me? Turning my head, I sent a fireball at one of them to my right, blasting it out of the sky. Haha. Eat that.

I caught a movement to my left and curled in my wings, dropping as fast as I could. Still I could not avoid something that felt suspiciously like a dragon's tail slammed partly against my head. Cursing, I dropped lower, into the clouds again. At this rate, I would not make it very far.

For awhile, I concentrated on the sound of heavy wing beats right above me, ignoring the humming sound the Gronkles made (but the beats drown most of them out anyway). I could judge what kind of dragon it is if I could just make this guy spit some fire. Yes, most probably. But what if he has no fire to blow? A Toxic Nightmare.

Most unlikely, I thought, curling back my neck to dodge a flash of gray as it pecked down where my head had been half a heartbeat ago. No, it was not dangerous. Dragons have this built-in sense of danger, allowing us to tell where and when the blows from an enemy would come. Some weren't fast enough in responding to it, though, or the opponent was too unpredictable.

Like this one.

I was forced to drop out of the clouds as the pecks came faster and more random blow by blow. The first had been a warning, I realized. These were for real. I think the saddle had been shattered a bit, but I was unharmed. Sweyn would kill me for this, though. He was about as fond of the thing as myself.

A fireball whistled past my head. It barely missed, forcing me to beat my wings faster and sped up to the whole jungle of white clouds ahead. If I could get there, my chances of survival and escape would rise tremendously, I realized. Then maybe I'd snap out my second set of wings and hover around for a bit. Timberjacks have the handy ability to spend much time in the air by using a second set of wings that started right behind our first. I rarely use this set, though. They slowed down fast maneuvers too much for my liking.

More fireballs flew. After dodging six, I'd had enough of it. Flipping onto my back in midair, I answered with seven repeated blasts, aiming rapidly at the out-of-place figures in the air. The yelps and squawks made me feel so satisfied. Grinning, I whipped around and continued to fly.

I was insane. I really must be, but I was enjoying this.

My inner alarm flared, making me barrel to the left, dodging a roaring jet of _white_ fire, and all enjoyment fled faster than a terrified Terror. I knew whose fire this kind belonged to. And if there was one rule that was followed by every dragon on this island, that is to never mess with _this_ dragon.

"Thor helps me," I nearly wailed, flying faster and moving in random zigzag lines to prolong my flight and possibly my life as well. The white fire did not come again, however, and it was back to yellow and red fire again. I have little trouble with that, but the presence of the white flame had me feeling shaky inside. I wasn't going to escape if _he_ was here.

Still, that didn't mean I would just turn back and lose my head. I still had too much enjoyment to feel in life. And…I didn't want to leave Sweyn behind alone.

With another burst of speed, I dived into the extra large clouds that were connected to each other, but I didn't choose to linger. All my plans at hiding had gone to ruin now that _he_ had joined the fray. I would have to pick another plan and avoid him at all cost. _He_ would be the death of me some day. And at this rate, I feared it would be _to_day.

Eastern isles! Right, the eastern isles. A bunch of very large isles two hours' flight away. I could manage that.

Shrieks and roars could be heard from behind now. I increased my speed, grateful for the clouds' protection as I glided among them, heading straight east.

"C'mon, beautiful! Fly!" a voice roared out. I shuddered. I wanted to spit something scathing back, but that would have given away my location, and that could not happen. So I ignored the taunt to keep flying straight. You would _not_ understand how hard it was.

I kept flying as fast as I could toward the far east, toward my promising sanctuary if I could just make it there in time. After an hour, I could already spot the isles. My wings were tired, but it was worth it. And I could no longer hear the telltale beats of powerful wings. It meant I was safe. Maybe they had given up the chase? I hoped so.

Slowing my pace slightly, I finally descended down on the isles. I chose the furthest one away from me, also the largest. It had little hills and almost no mountains except for one, which suited me just fine. The forests, still snow-covered, should hide me well, although it might take some exploring.

Twenty minutes later, I found a large clearing and landed there. Sighing in weariness, I looked around. A few trees. Boulders. A stream…It would do. At least, until the dragons decided to return and look for the traitor once again. But I was content to rest just for the time being.

Suddenly, a pressure appeared on the space right behind my head, pinning me down on the snow. I froze instinctively to the pressure, fear making my heart skipping a bit. This was the mortal point of a Timberjack. A bit more pressure and I neck will be broken. It was all I could do not to shake like a frightened dragonet.

"So, prettyscale," _that_ voice cooed, the amusement in it making my skin crawl. "Let's, ah, _talk_, shall we?"

* * *

_Oh yes, blame me for the completely unoriginal ending. But I felt like that was a good place to end it. Now, Review Replies -_

**Review Replies (_Night Visitor_)**

**Darkdagers:** Hiccup is currently somewhere far, far away...And I'm glad you like my story! :)

**Alana-kittychan: **Oh, don't worry, I'm not putting past the Night Fury to go to Hel's Realms and back for the kid. The other...Er, I'm not sure I should pick a tragic or happily-ever-after ending yet. I'm more to the tragic as of now.

**Medicant Bias:** We will see. Assuming Tempest somehow gets out of this mess unscathed first - which has quite a slim chance there. And yeah, I didn't see that little detail! I'll fix it when I have time. Next week, maybe.

**Pterodactyl**: I'm honored! And I didn't even try to make the character interesting, but it turned out like that? Hm, strange. Very strange. And as of Toothless, if my friend suddenly got snatched by the-gods-know-what, I would be stressed, too. We all would. I just hope he finds Hiccup and not the dead corpse of Hiccup.

**Whitefang**: Ah, thank you. About the "freaked out" part, I think Toothless picked that up from the youthful Viking children who ran blinded into danger too often to count.

**Radec**: Thanks a lot. And no problem with late reviews! I'm okay with it.

_So I hope you guys aren't going to throw rotten tomatoes on me for a five-days hiatus?_


	18. A Word Between Dragons

_Right. The (hopefully) long-awaited next installment of this blasted story that is taking up all my brain cells. I can't NOT finish this thing, but before I do, everything else must be put on hold. Curse you, story! Curse you!_

_And now, we have a bit of joyful news: I am not moving, so yeah, another year and two months for me to wrap this thing up. Yay for last-minute decisions from parents! _

_Disclaimer: Ghostly Shade, Steel Reaper, Tempest, Ectoplasm Vines, Sweyn, Alfdis and Steel belongs to me. The island belongs to Mother Nature. How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks. Wow, I actually like this disclaimer!_

_Thanks to _**Spyden**_ for beta-ing._

* * *

**A Word Between Dragons**

Silence stretched on for awhile as I stared up at my captor. The pressure on my neck hadn't lessened, but it hadn't increased either. Finally, I managed to speak, and to my relief, my voice didn't shake nearly as much as I had feared it would.

"Steel, what on Midgard –" I whispered, fear cutting through my heart. This dragon was one I never could beat, and now I was under his mercy. The panic was, however, subsiding, and I forced myself to think of something quickly. I didn't want to die so soon.

"You know exactly why I did this," Steel answered with a mocking grin. "Come now, prettyscale, you aren't so stupid."

"Smarter than you, I'd reckon," I gritted my teeth. One well-placed blow with my tail would get me out of this, but if I miscalculated, the Steel Reaper could accidentally slam down the claw on my neck, and it would be all over. It would be a risky chance, but it was the only chance I had.

"Smarter, perhaps, but less wary," the dragon clucked his tongue playfully, bending his neck so that his blood-red eyes could regard me more closely. The sunlight glinted dully on his cold steel-like scales. His hide would save him from anything, even intense fire, I noted. Right, so I _was_ the hopeless little fledging here after all. There was no way I would get out of this unscathed.

"Get off me, _now_," I hissed, raising my head in defiance, pride furiously fighting back the very logical voice in my mind insisting that I was going to be killed if I didn't keep my mouth shut. To Hel with it. Who did this lizard think he was, stepping all over me?

Of course, Master Perfect Dragon of the Age didn't heed a single word of that simple sentence. He merely chuckled with amusement and tilted his head. "Ah, now, isn't that cute," he cooed.

"Get off me so I can burn your ass to Hel's realm, you rock lizard!" I spat, defensive sense kicking in. With one reckless wrench that could have easily ended my life (and how I did _not_ die was a miracle), I broke free of his grasp and slammed my tail against his snout, tossing him aside. The moment he was off me, I bolted toward the forest, folding in my wings so that they were flat against my body. Steel was much larger than me, and it would take more time to chop the trees than to merely run between them. Steel Reapers were built exactly like a Timberjack, but they lost the grace and maneuver skills in tight space, as they relied more on brute force.

A roar of anger could be heard, but I ignored it and dived. I felt a claw slammed down mere inches from the tip of my tail, though I brushed away the thought of what a close call that had been and concentrated on running. I couldn't best this one, and although fleeing might be a coward's way out, I'd rather be a coward than die.

There were sounds of trees being felled and shrieks of frustration far behind. I was ahead while Steel was covering quite a shamefully small amount of distance. At this rate, I would be long gone before he could close in enough to do any sort of damage. Grinning at the thought, I galloped faster, rounding trees and streams easily, avoiding the large spaces like ravines or clearings that were wide enough for a dragon to struggle. I was already too far to hear much behind me, but the large shadow casting down on my back warned me of the danger in the air.

"I'm not falling for that," I muttered, veering to the south. My memory of locations and geology layouts were good, and now it served me well. There was a jungle of incredibly sticky and strong vines (respectively called Ectoplasm Vines because of the glue-like glowing green stuff on it, matching with the Ghostly Shade's breathe weapon) some miles off near the southernmost coast. If I could get there and draw Steel with me, the victory would be mine.

"You can't run forever, dragoness!" the voice roared above my head.

"We'll see!" I roared back. "Tell that to me when you actually _caught_ me, lizard!"

I was forced to jump to the left when a column of white fire hit the place where I had just been. When it ceased, the large boulder that endured the flame was melted to a sixth of its former size. Steel Reaper's fire was several times hotter than even a Night Fury's, but it lacked precise aiming and that lovely exploding quality, so it wasn't too much of a threat. Not to mention the fact that it took longer for this type of dragon to breathe fire than the rest of us. It was painfully easy to dodge.

My cousin up there wasn't up for a long wait, it seems. All the more fun.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" I screamed mockingly. "Aren't you going to catch me? Or am I just too _smart_ for you?"

An enraged roar was my answer, but no fire came. Instead, I heard the unmistakable sound of sharp winds as a dragon went for a dive. Almost there, almost there…

There! I finished the run with one desperate leap and dived under the canopy of the Ectoplasm Vines, forcing myself to roll to the side right after I reached the valley. A shocked half-roar half-shriek echoed in shock and I saw the vines stretched downward with the force of Steel's body on impact. They bounced up quickly, however, this time carrying an ensnared Steel Reaper in their sticky grasp.

I stood a few meters away, regarding the struggling mess with more pleasure than I've felt in a long time. The vines would hold for several more days if they weren't exposed to rain or water. Even after that, the dragon would have that remaining glue on it for quite some time yet. I entertained the thought of Steel getting out of this net just to get stuck to a redwood tree. Ah, quite a sight _that_ would be.

"I believe the victory is mine," I told the Steel Reaper, sounding smug even to myself. But hey, it wasn't everyday that a Timberjack manages to best its advanced cousin so. And I have all the rights in the world to celebrate.

"Winter, _get me out of here_!" Steel roared, struggling even more, resulting in him getting even more stuck. I tilted my head in amusement and settled down on the very edge of the valley below to watch him thrash about. It did not take long for him to finally stop spitting fire (which didn't do a thing to the vines – the glue on them prevented that) and calmed. About an hour or so, I think.

"So, are you done yet?" I asked cheerfully.

Steel turned his head to glare at me. "You will pay dearly for this," he promised.

"Indeed. But as of now, I shall enjoy watching the fly thrash in the spider's net," I countered, flashing him a grin. "Oh, and there are the Skullions on this island, too. I almost forgot. They are probably hungry right now. The turkeys sort of ran out awhile back."

Steel's glare intensified. But he was in no position for any threat, so it was pretty much useless. "I hope you have a good time here whilst I escape," I added, standing up and stretching. "Half-Pint was probably worried by now – if he has been released first. The Night Fury might be able to provide me with more information."

With that, I turned away, flicked my tail as a good-bye, and got ready to leave.

"Wait."

I glanced back. "What?"

"Could you at least tell me _why_ you are doing this?"

"And why do _you_ need to know? I'm a traitor, aren't I? I befriended a human, shamed the dragons, and now I'm under arrest. Isn't that enough?"

"You hate humans."

"I _used_ to hate humans. This one impresses me." Now I turned around and regarded Steel curiously, his own look mirroring mine. "But why are you asking this? Aren't your orders clear enough?" I asked.

"I _wasn't_ a mindless dragon who spent all my time showing off to the dragonesses, in spite of popular belief," Steel said, offended. He tried to shift a bit and succeeded in doing so without getting too much glue on himself this time. He dipped his head to watch me more easily, all frustration suddenly gone to be replaced by inquisitiveness.

I held his gaze for a few seconds before deciding that it couldn't hurt to share my story. Settling down once again, I started the tale from the beginning, cutting out a few parts here and there. At first I had to think things through before saying them, but then I just let it go. I didn't tell the dragon about my fear of changes, though I did tell him how I almost killed Sweyn, wincing at that part. I recalled as much as I could, all the moments we shared together, and then ended it at the part where the Night Fury appeared.

It took an hour or so to recount all that, but Steel listened to it without interrupting, although he threw me "are you crazy" looks every now and then. And I couldn't blame him. Now that I heard the story from my own mouth, there were instants where I thought I was mental to even consider my actions. But I didn't regret it. None of it. Sweyn was a friend, the first _real_ friend I've had since…never, and I really treasured him.

When I finished, I paused for a few moments before adding, "I miss the hatchling."

Steel's answer was to study me thoroughly for half a minute before saying flatly, "You've lost your mind."

"No, I haven't."

"What else can be the excuse? Really? Befriending a _human_? You know better than to trust those axe-swinging idiots!" he exclaimed, tossing his head. "They have slain our parents and our brethren, Winter!"

"Tempest," I corrected automatically.

"NO! I will _not_ call you by the name a filthy human gave you. The _point_ is, we have lost so many to your _friend's_ people. How could you…How could you even _think_ to let one of _those_ come close to you – with your permission, nonetheless!"

I thought about that, not bothering to retaliate for Sweyn since I knew it wasn't true anyway. And his words hardly shook the faith I had in the hatchling. Had he said that months ago, I would've listened. But now…

"Not all humans are the same," I replied at length, carefully. "I understand your frustration, but it was _us_ who started the war with them. We relished in their blood as they did hanging our skins and heads on their walls. We enjoyed giving them a painful death as they did capturing our kins. What is the difference?"

"The difference is that they are the enemy!" Steel said, exasperated. "They are what we _fight_, Winter! Can you not see that?"

"What _for_?" I snapped, surprising even myself at the bitterness and heat in those two words. Steel reared back in shock. I took a shaky breath before carrying on with it. "We fought days and nights, year after year, decade after decade, but what was this war for? I don't think any cared to remember _when_ this started in the first place! It was too long ago! Even my memories are dim. We waste everything for this stupid long-termed fight over _food_! We called them savages, but…are _we_ any better?"

The last sentence was dropped back into normal volume. I had stood and started pacing without even knowing it, and now I turned back to look at Steel. He was glaring back defiantly, and I knew he wasn't going to buy a word of it. Steel has been raised to kill humans and generally make them _suffer_. I was, too, but Sweyn changed that. His presence has shot down all the facts about Vikings that has been hammered into my brain since the stage of hatchling. Humans are savages. Humans are morons. Humans know nothing but to kill and be killed. Humans always see anything bigger than them as a threat.

Sweyn wasn't a savage. Sweyn was no moron. Sweyn knew how to create and enjoy life. Sweyn saw a dragoness with sharp wings and teeth and tail as a friend. What I have been given in the past _weren't_ facts. They were just overall assumptions. We completely forgot that humans were living creatures with brains, too, and that there were distinctions in their midst. Not all were the same. Not every generation was the same as the last. Some stood out. And they were hated for that.

But I wasn't going to be able to convince the Steel Reaper here of that, I was quite sure. He hasn't interacted with a human who was different than the rest. He hasn't seen just what they were really capable of aside from slaying dragons and hunting for more dragon blood.

"Anybody else heard this story?" Steel asked, his voice tight.

"Trouble did. A Toxic Nightshade hatchling."

"And he bought it?"

"Yes."

"He is a fool."

I looked at him in the eyes, and I saw scorn there with a bite of pity. "You are a traitor," he continued logically. "The dragons were right. You deserve to die. You are not a dragon. You are not one of us anymore."

"I never have been," I countered, although it still stung. Yes, I have been expecting the same treatment, but that didn't make it any less cutting. He _was_ right. I was no longer a dragon. What kind of dragon would let a _human_ ride on it? In my kin's eyes, I was but a donkey with wings now.

"But then, _what_ are you?"

The question hung in the air for quite some time, and honestly, I didn't know how to answer it at first. I have never thought much of that one before, of all the questions I've asked myself around Sweyn. After a moment of silence, the answer formed in my mind.

"Just a dragon who is…unusual."

Steel blinked. "I've thought you would've given a more dramatic speech," he commented. Then he cocked his head. "You know you'll walk the lonely road after this, right?" he asked. "You can still turn back now. Kill the human you've been…hanging around with, and the Council might give you back your honor. You can spare the pain of being shunned from our history forever."

Despite myself, I laughed at the absurdity of that statement. "Kill him?" I repeated. "I cannot _kill_ him, Steel. Didn't you hear me? I tried once before, _long_ before I've gotten to know him as much as I did, and still I can't. What made you think I can _now_?" Turning away, I started out of the forest. This conversation was over. I've had the reply of a practical dragon regarding my friendship with my hatchling, and it was enough. The rest of the Dens will be the same, no doubt there. There was nothing for me to lose now but one.

Maybe I'd talk about it with Sweyn later, I mused. I could convince him to go to Berk, that place where dragons and humans are friends, not enemies. We could certainly get a life in peace there. Nobody would frown upon our friendship. Nobody would question our sanity, and nobody would chastise us for what we are and what we will always be.

"Wait up."

I turned back. "What?" I demanded.

"Isn't your human…a hatchling around thirteen summers with sharp grey eyes, was skilled with knives and has black hair? And he is accompanied by another female about the same age with dark hair and blue eyes?" Steel inquired.

Alarms blared in my head. I didn't give him a proper description of neither Sweyn nor Alfdis. The fact that he knew –

"What news do you have of them?" I demanded, striding toward him. "The other dragons did not find them? Oh, _you'd_ better not – !"

"No," Steel answered quickly. "But I saw them. They were taken by a group of other humans just last night to the south coast of Death Rock, and then thrown onto a ship with a black sail."

A ship with a black sail…

One memory flashed through my mind, of several ships with that color going about some weeks back as we tested out the saddle. I've discarded them as trade ships, but it was _winter_. Why would trade ships go about in winter? And why would they have _black_ sails? Those ships often have striped red-and-white ones or plain white.

Unless, of course, they _weren't_ trade ships.

Cursing furiously, I turned and darted up a tree before launching myself into the sky. Steel had said that he saw it yesterday night, so it couldn't have gone far. If I flew fast enough, perhaps I could catch sight of the ships. Thank Thor those things went slowly. For possibly the hundredth time, I was glad human means of traveling are rather lame when it comes to speed.

"Hey! You're kidding about the Skullions, right?" Steel yelled after me.

"NO!" I shouted back. "Sorry!"

After that, I rose into the height where I could no longer hear him.

* * *

_By all means, my lovely Skullions, eat the dragon! Tempest to the rescue! I hope Sweyn doesn't stir up more trouble for himself before his friend went to him. And I am contemplating about letting the Berk dragons join the fray._

**Review Replies (_From Hunter to Hunted_)**

**Terry the Terryble:** I don't know...To be honest, I am quite sick of Disney happy endings for the moment. It doesn't necessarily need to be happy to make an ending worth-while. Either way, we will see.

**wakazimaru:** They will, in time :) And here's the next chapter!

**Toothless-the-nightfury: **Well, cliffhanger remedy's here. Hope you like it!

**Medicant Bias:** The island is too far east for Toothless to go without flying. And I want Tempest to get out of it herself - which she did. I'm not moving, so don't worry! As for the white flame, epic fail on that part. I was not really on the creative wheel when I was writing last chapter.

**Marmelada: **Well, I like my Toothless that way. Let's just say he's...transformed...around Hiccup, shall we? Yeah, he had a major meltdown around his human. Fits. And thank you for your praises!

**Radec:** I still have to work on Tempest confronting not just one dragon but her whole society about that little twig she called a friend. But it will have to come together some time. Right now, all I can ask of all you is to wait. I'm lame.

_So, we temporarily close the curtains here. I have a whole series of drabbles for this story out, called _We are the Differences: Drabbles_. I will update them as much as I could while working on this one as well. If you are searching for Sweyn's childhood and other Death Rock mayhems untold in this one, go search in that one. Currently taking requests for drabbles, too._

_Review, and long live the dragons!  
~the Apprentice_


	19. A Hunter Once More

_Fourteen minutes till curfew. Better hurry!_

_Again, credits to _**Spyden **_for editing this for me._

_The name Bluebell used for Astrid's Nadder belonged to Enchantable, not mine. She is an amazing author in this fandom._

**

* * *

A Hunter Once More**

It took an hour to return close enough to Death Rock without being sighted. I tried keeping in the clouds to avoid any searching dragons that might anticipate my return – the head of a traitor is always the greatest honor a dragon could gain – which meant it took me an extra forty-five minutes to finally be able to spot the southern side of the Loki's Field. Or was it Loki's Ground? The name has always been vague. I couldn't remember, but that wasn't important.

For every mile in the air, I spotted two to three dragons. Whether it was another of the fifteen Timberjacks, a Steel Reaper, Nadders, Nightmares or whatever, I didn't like the hungry look in their eyes, and I tried not to show myself too much. It sometimes was necessary, though, when I had to dart between clouds.

I wanted to check the Loki's Field first. If I was in luck, maybe the black-sailed ship had run into some of those treacherous rocks in the way and get itself stuck. But at the same time, I had the feeling that such an impact would not sit well with my hatchling, and apparently Alfdis as well. Humans were overly fragile in my opinion. I have never checked on folks getting rammed into sea-rocks, though, so I could only hope the wooden vessel protected them somewhat.

An image of the ship, its black sail torn, skewered on a beach of sharp rocks, empty but bloodstained, flashed across my mind. I frantically shook it away. There would be no time to make up illusions now, I thought. But there was that nagging unease that couldn't be discarded. I glanced down at the Loki's Field below, then at the island that I'd once called home.

It was a strange feeling, to be chased by my own kins like this, I mused distantly, preparing for a steep dive as soon as I made sure there was no dragon who could spot me for some time yet. The fear the sight of my own home brings – it was so…surreal.

Stranger yet, it didn't hurt too much. I had no parents left anyway, so being shunned wasn't all that bad. I felt little to nothing about the fact. Perhaps it was because there was nobody here to look at me with the sheer disappointment a parent could bring. Perhaps it was because I already knew that this would happen, given time. I have feared before, my stomach clenching at the very thought of it, but now that it already happened…

Maybe it hasn't sunken in yet; not all of it. Maybe I was going into shock – which would have been reasonable, considering how distant I felt right now. I didn't think I was actually in my body anymore. The world was dull. My mind was strangely…muddled. Sensations of touch and smell still worked fine, but I didn't really feel like I was actually _there_.

To be honest, I would appreciate a deep sleep to clear my somewhat aching head, but I couldn't rest now. The surge of fear and apprehension for Sweyn was still there, and it flared every now and then. Narrowing my eyes, I snapped in my wings and dived, hoping that the wind would snatch away the strange numb feeling from my mind and the unsettling feeling of _detachment_.

It did its job well. When I pulled out my wings near the ocean surface, my head was somewhat clearer. The misty sheen that always covered Loki's Field raced to meet me, and I folded my wings in as I approached, trying not to hit them against the way-too-narrow pillars and bits of rocks that dotted the mile-wide ring of natural defense for Death Rock.

Landing roughly on the sharp stones that would've cut a human's skin any day, but left no sensation on the pad of my claws, I looked around, flicking my tongue in and out to taste and sniff the air. The salty smell was _everywhere_. It was incredibly hard to tell if it had overlapped another scent or there was nothing else to begin with. To my left, twenty-something meters away, I could see one of the old, rotting ships that'd met their unfortunate ends on the unforgiving execution site.

The ship was obviously of Viking's creation, and the rotting smell told me that it had been there for quite some time now. Some years ago, I'd wager. The carvings of a dragon's head on one end of it and what remained of a yellowed painted sail that might have once been white proved that much.

Moving to another area, I didn't see or sense anything else but the smell of sea spray, more rotten wood, the smell of rotten fish, a few black-and-yellow striped eels that washed ashore (and I liked them! I didn't understand why the other dragons hated them so much) and some driftwood. That was all. Doubling back, growling in frustration now, I went west instead of east through the Field.

When I had almost given up, I suddenly detected a glint of steel in a cluster of rocks, shining as the sun's weak rays finally penetrated a bit of the fog. Curious, I jumped over the ten-meter gap of shallow ocean between me and the rocks. My landing shook the fragile surface, but I ignored it and trotted over to the cluster of rock where the glint was seen.

It was a dagger.

The weapon was new, and it still shone like it was newly polished. It could not have been here even months long if the sea air hasn't rusted it. Dead ships weren't the only thing on Loki's Field. Human's bodies washed up here, too, and so did their weapons. I've noticed that if left out in the damp for awhile, a crust of brown started coating the shiny metal. It took months to make that observation on several of the things, but the curiosity was sort of irresistible.

I eyed the dagger in dismay. It would have been easy to dismiss it as one of the invading Vikings' daggers as they ran one of their ships into the bank, but I knew that couldn't be. On the same day of the attack, we had also returned home near this area. If there really had been a ship this way, I would never have missed it. Viking ships flash red and brown in an ocean of dark blue. How _could_ anything short a deaf, dumb and blind turtle miss it was beyond me.

Besides, there were no sign of any recent ships around. If it had just been about two or three days ago, then the ship would at least look new. Debris like this often lied near the ships. If these humans are unwilling to part with anything, it is their pointy objects that are capable of drawing blood.

Cautiously, almost fearfully, I bent and touched my snout to the leather handle, sniffing at it carefully for some reason that even I didn't know why. The leather was tainted with that salty ocean smell, but another scent was also in there as well: the smell of crushed pine needles, roasted deer meat and woods. It was a familiar smell, though it did anything but calm me down.

It was, without a doubt, the hatchling's dagger.

For the next half hour, I frantically searched the ground for a body and at the same time, fervently hoping that I would never find one. The dominant salty scent wasn't helping. There were times I just wanted to roar in irritation or cut down a few rocks or do _something_ to damage the vicinity to get the anger out. Although I managed to stifle those urges for the sake of keeping my presence discreet, my tail knocked over a small column of stone as it was lashing without control.

That in turn knocked against another, taller one, and that taller one knocked against another even taller one. I stood, frozen, watching the tumbling stone with shock as the fifth and final one crashed into the ocean, sending up a wave of salt water.

Immediately, there was the squawking speech in Dragonese only an alarmed Deadly Nadder could provide to my left, further into the thick mist that I had yet to explore. "Someone's here!" it shrieked – since those pathetic feather-brained excuses of dung-eater, that cross between birds and some unfortunate species of dragon forced into a horrifying marriage, still did _not_ learn how to properly roar in the ten millennia they spent on this world.

"It's not far!" another one cried out, this time in the human tongue. It was a female. "C'mon, Bluebell, lead me to it!"

I climbed a tall column with remarkable speed (and yes, remarkable indeed – ten seconds to cover the nearly-thirty meters) and perched at the top, watching with narrowed eyes at the loud and obnoxious footfalls of the approaching overly large penguin, waiting. From this height, I would be well out of view, and the salty smell would most probably ease my scent a little bit.

And no, I do not hate Nadders. Yes, I do think that they are the world's dumbest and poorest excuse of a dragon ever. Yes, I think them a joke of Loki on our noble race that went way too far (and I am _still_ cursing that god) but no, I do not hate the fellows. Well, if that particular female Nadder had not interrupted my search then, maybe I wouldn't be so rude!

Returning to the present from the inner Nadder-related rant I was giving myself, my eyes narrowed even more as the thing finally came into sight. She was a female, most definitely – her wingspan was longer than three meters, the average for males. The Nadder wasn't all that special, with blue scales, big gold eyes and gold specks on them like any common Nadder. What _was_ peculiar about her, however, was the human sat poised on her back, the girl's right hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a battleaxe.

One of the invading Vikings' dragon-human pairs, most likely. There was no other explanation. I haven't seen this girl anywhere in the forest all the decades that I've lived here, and I was pretty sure, judging from her look, that she enjoyed treks through the woods. All Viking hatchlings – at least the average ones – do. I wasn't about to doubt this one. She looked every bit the "correct" human.

"Come out, come out," the Nadder squawked softly. "Wherever you are, come out." What has the human called her? Ah, right, _Bluebell_. Not a bad name. No match for mine, though. I like Sweyn's taste in names.

I suddenly realized that I was being childish. Really? Thinking of things like that here? I am ninety years old, for heaven's sake! Or was it a hundred? But it didn't matter, really. I shall get annoyed with the Thor-blasted Nadder because I am frustrated. The gods shall not be able to stop me.

Several seconds passed. Neither the Nadder nor its rider looked up. If they had just thrown their heads back, I would be right there, looming over them. As it was, the sun was hidden behind dark, gloomy clouds that day, so I was safe.

"Strange," the female human muttered. "I swore I could hear that crashing around here." She looked at the ton of rocks that'd just gone crashing into the ocean suspiciously, like she somehow knew those were the stones that made the noises. "Hm." She urged the Nadder toward the mess, and Bluebell obeyed.

As soon as they got within a meter of it, however, there was a call – a human call – from the direction the pair had come from. "Astrid!" a male's voice yelled. "We found something!"

Great. They got company.

"Alright!" Astrid yelled back. She gave the rocks another narrow-eyed look before Bluebell turned around and dashed back into the fog. They would come back to look at them later, I'd think. The human didn't look all that satisfied with the quick scrutiny she has given the rocks.

When the sounds of footsteps faded away completely, I climbed down again and renewed my search of Sweyn's body and continued to hope that I was wrong. After another whole hour of combing through the southern side of the Field, I finally reached the conclusion that no, Half-Pint's body was not around. There was also no ship with a black sail.

"So they took him," I said to myself, looking out into the open southern sea. Perhaps Sweyn had dropped it here as a sign for me that they'd passed through this area or the other humans threw it down. Turning toward the sea, I started climbing up a column and launch myself into the air as soon as I could find relative safety from the prying eyes of my kins, I hesitated suddenly. The talk with the Night Fury flashed back in my mind, and once again I saw the worry in his eyes.

It had been apparent that Toothless couldn't fly. Night Furies have the most control in the air, besting any dragon, but if they lost one of their extra four fins, they were flightless. Maybe this human of his operated it for him? I didn't know, but perhaps the black ships have something to do with his missing human as well.

That made it only fair to ask him if he'd wanted to follow. He could certainly swim. His kind could swim as quickly as any Doomfang or water dragon. We could make it there. Besides, Toothless had a right to come with me, I supposed. We both had similar goals, and we could help each other in this.

But no. Flying would be faster and more secured. If we approached in daylight, everyone on the ship would see a black dot drawing near them. That would undoubtedly cause quite a lot of trouble of every kind. Now that I thought about it, if these humans have managed to seize the Night Fury's friend, they might as well be of some skills yet. Moreover, flying was still faster than swimming any day. Not to mention that those ships already had a head-start.

I glanced at the ocean, then behind my back and grunted dismissively. It was too dangerous to return to Death Rock again anyway. I had to go _now_, before one of the other dragons caught sight of me. The sky around might be empty for now, but given another fifteen minutes, they would sweep this region again.

Raising my head to check the sky again, I raised my wings, bent my knees and jumped into the air with as much force as I could muster. When I was high enough, I continued to flap until I was shooting straight upward. Diving into the nearest cloud as fast as I could, I finally leveled out and started scanning the sea below, looking for any signs of ships.

The thaw might be starting, but the trade ships shouldn't be arriving just yet. Spring often brought violent storms, and with the addition of Loki's Field, Death Rock was only the destination of suicidal or idiotic ships. We had more than enough human bones and leftovers of those fancy wooden floaters the bones' owners made around to prove that. All I saw was endless ocean, a few icebergs here and there, ocean, ocean, more iceberg, ocean again, and clouds.

_But that was impossible,_ I thought as I flew for another hour. How could that ship have gone so fast? It had been more than fifty miles, and yet there was no sign of that blasted piece of wood anywhere. I had no doubt that I haven't missed anything. Where did it go?

My nose was useless, of course. I could detect a running deer even after it crossed a large lake, but this was the ocean. The salty smell in addition to the fact that it was such a large body of water blotched out every single trace of crushed pine-needle. All I could count on here was my sight, and it wasn't enough. If anything, it made me feel uncomfortable, unable to depend on any other sense but one.

Suddenly, I was pulled out of my brooding by a flash of black on the endless dark blue on my left. Whirling to that direction, I flew closer, narrowing my eyes at that speck of black. I sped up, careful to keep to the clouds, just in case.

When I was close enough, I wanted to do some loop-the-loops in joy. It _was_ the ship. There was only one, however, instead of the several that I've seen weeks ago, and another doubt managed to worm its way into my brain. What if it wasn't the ship that contained the hatchling and his friend? But I brutally tossed it aside, resorting to watch the vessel from above. Thankfully, a low cloud was directly above it, so I hid myself there and stared at the ship in question.

The upper level of it, the one where the humans were exposed to the open air, was packed. Brutes walked everywhere, some thin and wiry while others must be the size of typical Viking humans. They wore colorful, ridiculous clothes, though, and not the usual plain brown or gray of the Death Rock humans. They were all milling around, bellowing something-or-other and generally making a lot of excessive noises. Some miles above them _with the winds blowing in my ears _and the sounds still bugged me to no end.

However, there was no sight of a black head. The heads were either blonde or dark blonde or brown. Some were covered in a piece of colorful cloth. Some were bald. All in all, they looked like a bunch of extra-colorful parakeet birds that the traders sometimes brought in (I ate them. I know – yes, the trader and the bird both).

Disappointment and worry surged inside me. I've gone this far, and I've missed? But that couldn't be. This was the closest ship with a black sail to Death Rock. The distance they covered in the night might be close to unrealistic, but they _were_ closest to the island after all. If this wasn't the ship then I didn't know what else.

The only option left was to watch or to wage war on those below. I know that two fireballs will send them down the deepest bottom of the ocean, but what if Half-Pint really _was_ in there? I didn't want to kill him. It would be too risky. So the only choice left was to wait.

I expanded my second set of wings, relaxed, and let myself floated. My wing beats slowed as I remained in the cloud, hoping that the winds will not blow it away too fast.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. Then forty-five.

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the top level (was it called the "deck"? I didn't know much about human ships). Surprised yelps sounded first, then angry shouts, then pained screams. A figure with raven hair jumped onto the rope ladder-like thingy on the side of the ship and started to climb at incredible speed. Some of those men with the curved swords shouted bloody murder and launched themselves at him, but he dodged, stabbed back with something in his hand before continuing to climb.

You know what? Never mind what I said about waiting.

With a deafening roar, I folded in my wings and dove straight for the ship.

* * *

**Review Replies (_A Word Between Dragons_)**

**Whitefang333: **Thank you. Actually...on the Tempest/Toothless interaction...Read on! Read on and we shall find out!

**Darkdagers: **Well, here's more for you! :D

**Medicant Bias: **You can thank my muse for the chapter. The folks on the ship are indeed pirates, but they are under another's influence. I suddenly have the urge to create a villian behind this all, and she's forming quickly...This might drag on longer than I thought after all. Tempest is a dragon, therefore math is beyond her. Allowing her to be able to use "meters" and "inches" as measurements is already an unrealistic stretch on my part. She is currently cursing me for making her sound so unintelligent. But really, she is exaggerating on that part. Please standby as I deal with this stupid lizard.

**wakazimaru: **Thank you! -takes candies- Yum! This is your update!

**Radec: **Hm, I might not necessarily make it angsty when it comes to protecting Sweyn. It will be difficult and dangerous, but maybe not distressing. Maybe. I'm considering. And as for how long this might go, I am having the impression that one story might not be able to wrap it all up, and a sequel might be needed. Now I'll have to think of it, however.

**Alana-kittychan:** I am considering. Maybe, maybe not. But perhaps I won't give you an all-out tragic ending. The one I'm going with right now is a hanging one. But we will see. Thank you for your review!

_Tempest said hi. And Sweyn is cussing me out for making him the damsel in distress. Really, can I not throw these two over the cliff? Oh, and Sweyn sticks out his tongue at you folks who pitied him. He was currently asking for the spotlight._

_...So, who vote that Tempest kicks every butt on that stupid ship?_


	20. No Calm After the Storm

_I have a House M.D. episode to catch, so on with it._

_Beta credits to _**Spyden**_, of course. You are awesome, my friend._

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**No Calm After the Storm**

How long has it been since I shed a human's blood?

I think it was about five months. I have not killed any of those meat bags since. Not since Sweyn. I had to admit, the hatchling gained my respect as well as curiosity when we had that little hunting game back there. From then on, out of respect for him (and the blizzards stopped me from doing anything of the like), I have avoided those Vikings as much as I could.

Well, that was a record. Five months without killing a human. Too bad that was as far as my patience could stretch.

It was immensely satisfying to hear those stinky meat packages gasped and scream and curse as I landed on the top level, crushing some five men under my body. I roared again, looking at the humans that now scurried backward, away from me. Ah, how good it felt, to be feared again! So who should I tear apart first, I wonder? Hm, maybe that fellow with the colorful cloth on his head –

"Tempest?"

Oh, right. The reason I dragged myself all the way out here.

I turned my head to look at the owner of the black head on that rope ladder thing, who was staring right back, his grey eyes wide with disbelief, amazement and relief. My eyes raked him down, spotting a bit of blood on his shirt, a rather lovely bruise on the side of his head and another on his neck. The bruises looked new enough, too.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the crowd. We both snapped back to it to find a man with slightly-fancier clothes holding another of his crew by the scruff of his collar and shaking him violently. "You guaranteed me that the boy's dragon can't fly!" he shrieked. "Explain to me why _that_ is here!"

"The Night Fury can't fly!" the other human shouted. "And that's not the chieftain kid's dragon!"

"Then you are telling me it's the girl's dragon?"

"NO! She does not have a dragon!"

"Then whose was it?"

Something suddenly hit the ground next to me. I shot my eyes back to that spot and found one grim-looking Sweyn brandishing his weapon (another dagger). He reached out a hand toward my head, and instinctively, I moved it so that my snout touched his palm. Ah, how I missed his touch. Growling softly, I momentarily withdrew my attention from the men (not that they could do me any harm) and curled my tail around him, pressing my head to his chest.

A moment was all we got. "MORGANA!" the fancy-clothed man's voice screamed out. Then the rest of his crew started shuffling. Opening my eyes, I returned my attention to them. They were charging valiantly with swords that would probably give me pretty little scratches if they were lucky. Do humans everywhere just _love_ charging at a dragoness several times bigger than them?

Two medium-sized fireballs and half the ship was on fire. Men now screamed in pain and jumped overboard. The rest were trying to jump me. Sweyn had said, "I need to get Alfdis" and vanished into an entrance behind my back. I would have stopped him, but I was preoccupied with two of those smelly beasts on my back at the moment, so I gave up and hoped with all my might that he would make it out again alive.

One swing of my tail sent six more of them overboard. I spun, shooting out a wing and tearing a deep gash into the ship. Water started coming in. That wasn't good. These things tended to sink when water enters them. We had to get out of here, _fast_.

"_Sweyn!_" I roared. "Hurry!" I snapped up another man in my teeth, felt his spine crushed and the putrid taste of human blood before throwing him into the sea. Slamming my claw down on another, I pressed until I heard the ribs cracking before discarding him in favor of intercepting another human. They were everywhere. Weak or not, they were starting to get on my nerves. Another one charged my side with a yell. I snapped out my wing and felt it break through bones and flesh before pulling it back in.

The ship was closer to the sea surface than I remembered it to be. This could not be good.

"Abandon ship!" the fancy-clothed man's voice shouted above everyone else's again. It didn't look like his crew needed his words, though. They were already streaming toward the small boats tied to the sides long before he said anything. Now the rest of the more stupid folks obeyed, scrambling and stepping over themselves as they rushed to safety. I hung back, watching them for a minute. Should I spare them?

"Tempest!" a familiar voice cried out. Somebody landed on the saddle on my back with some more extra thumps and struggling than usual. For some reason, a wave of reassurance washed over me. This familiar feeling, I've waited so long for it to return. The hatchling was back where he belongs. "Bring us home! Hiccup, keep your feet up when she lands. Her wings are sharp. Alfdis, idiot, what are you standing there for? Come on!"

I glanced to my right, lifting my wing to have a clearer look. The female, Alfdis, was standing some way back, her frightened eyes meeting mine. She was rigid like a statue, though, and she gazed back at me with a hint of defiance. Brave girl.

"Come _on_! She isn't going to bite!" Sweyn's voice sounded, exasperated.

"You can't tame a dragon," Alfdis said faintly, backing away. Water was on the deck now.

"Sweyn," I cautioned.

"I know, I know," he replied, his voice sharp. But I've heard worse. "You can't tame a dragon, but you can certainly befriend her. Alfdis, I will tell Tempest to carry you in her claws if you don't _stop fooling around this instance and get up here_!"

Okay, I've known Sweyn to use a lot of tones, but that razor one – who was that sitting on my back again? I turned my head to look on my back and saw the same hatchling sitting there, another one with brown hair and wide green eyes behind him, just as scrawny, but I decided to worry about this new character later and observed my hatchling. Sweyn's eyes were flashing dangerously.

Alfdis hesitated for a moment, darting me another look. I gazed back, impatience starting to show. She was tarrying. I will count until ten. If she doesn't get on, then I _will_ carry her in my claws. My eyes shifted back to the wood I was standing on. It wasn't getting any drier.

"Sweyn, _now_!" I hissed.

"Wait a moment." Sweyn extended his hand. "I promise you this will be a safe flight, Alfdis. _Trust me_." The last two words were firmer than the rest. Alfdis gave me another glance before she gave in and ran forward, although she didn't seem like she wanted to touch me.

I lowered my wing in front of her. "Run up," Sweyn instructed. "She won't fret. She isn't a pack donkey, you know."

"Too right," I snorted, and Half-Pint flashed me a grin. Alfdis glanced at the floor this time before her face hardened and she scrambled up my wing and jumped behind the new human we just collected. Sweyn gave her the same warning he gave the new male (who was it? "Hiccup"?) and then he grasped hold of the handle.

I didn't wait any longer. Leaping off the boat, I stretched out my wings and caught the wind. When I could gain balance, I started to climb upward, into the clouds above. Finally, reaching the height that I wanted, I turned north.

"So," I said, hoping Sweyn still retained some of that knowledge of Dragonese I've spent weeks to teach him, "how was your trip?"

"It was the merriest voyage I've had in years," Half-Pint's voice was tinged with sarcasm. "Some lovely bruises to keep as souvenir, too. Those blasted pirates are too kind. Oh, and some proper introductions to make: Tempest, the girl is Alfdis. Alfdis, this is Tempest. She is a Timberjack, as you know."

Silence answered that statement.

Sweyn spoke next, a little awkward. "Um, okay. While we wait for Alfdis' brain freeze to thaw, this is Hiccup, from the Hairy Hooligans."

"The hatchling with the brown hair?" I asked, unable to look back while flying.

"Yeah, him. He's the reason the Berk folks came over."

Another voice spoke, this one alien. I guessed it was the new kid's. "I'm sorry about, you know, about the invasion." Something patted my scales. "And you're amazing, Tempest. A nice name, too."

"Thank you," I answered, not knowing what else to say at the sudden complement. No, I wasn't flustered. I was _not_ flustered. Dragons do not fluster! I was just…taken by surprise, that was all. Yes, taken by surprise. Certainly.

"Why do I have the feeling that if you are a human, you would be blushing right now?" Sweyn's voice asked casually with a hint of laughter. I turned my head slightly to glower at him. He laughed, and I could see an expression of surprise crossed Alfdis' face, who was sitting behind Hiccup. It soon turned into a small smile, but was that a flash of envy I saw in her eyes?

The next half hour, I listened in as the two boys swapped stories. Hiccup turned out to be the Night Fury's human after all (what a coincidence – and I was right!) and the first dragon rider in his home. There were five others with him, three have their own dragon and the last two were twins, sharing a single Hideous Zippleback.

Five riders, four dragons. Hm, that was too few to overwhelm Death Rock's Vikings, so I'd think the humans were numerous as well. Suddenly I remembered something that I've almost forgotten. I was being _hunted_. How could I get them back to Death Rock unseen? It was already dangerous just flying into the Loki's Field.

I could hear from Sweyn's voice that he was eager to go home. Hiccup's, too. But if I was caught, then that would probably turn into an ugly flight. Death Rock's dragons numbered over five thousand, not counting the others who lived in islands close by that will respond to the Dragon Council's call for assistance with grace.

What will I do now?

"It's beautiful," Alfdis' voice suddenly cut through my concentration. "The sight from here. It's beautiful."

"You are talking!" Sweyn feigned shock. "Oh my gods! Alfdis is _talking_, folks! Ragnarok must be coming tomorrow – Ow! Woman! Since when did your arms grow so long?"

"Since you decided it was okay to make fun of me," Alfdis retorted. She paused before laughing. "Okay, I give up. This _is_ awesome. Thanks for showing me…Tempest." Silence claimed us again. I could feel the tense air leave from the children, and I myself relaxed somewhat without knowing that I have been rather rigid.

The island soon came into sight. There was not a single silhouette of a winged beast against the sky. It was surprising, but I wouldn't say I didn't want the chance. Keeping my alerts up, I descended until I was close to Loki's Field. As I was able to find a wide space this time, I got a nice landing.

"What's wrong, Tempest?" Sweyn sounded surprised, and my stomach twisted for some reason. "Why are we here?"

"I am…wanted," I said slowly.

Silence was the answer. I was afraid the hatchling didn't get what I was saying, but before I could make another, simpler statement, he interrupted, "Do you mean that…the _dragons_ wanted you?"

"Sweyn, what's going on?" Alfdis demanded, but the hatchling ignored her.

"Yes," I admitted. There were some shuffling, the weight shifted on my back as my passengers dismounted (oh, look at me! Using the word _dismounted_ regarding myself! Some dragon I am) and soon I was staring into worried grey eyes.

"Why?" Sweyn demanded. "Why would they want you?"

I looked at him for awhile, taking in what I could of the hatchling in details before answering. The word felt nasty in my mouth, like it was human flesh left to rot in a pile of dung for some day and then dragged through mud topped with rocks. "You."

Sweyn gazed at me uncomprehendingly for a few moments before understanding dawned on his face, and his breath escaped in a harsh sound. He turned away. "I'm sorry, Tempest. I should've known they wouldn't appreciate our friendship."

"They despise it," I agreed gently, nosing him. "But you didn't go wrong. It was me. I trusted too easily."

The hatchling turned around and looked to the direction where Death Rock was. His face was wistful. "I haven't told my people anything about you. My brother will keep the secret as long as I want him to, but…" He trailed off, looking down. Then Sweyn picked his head up again and turned to the two other humans.

"We can't fly home," he said. "Tempest will be killed if she is sighted by any Death Rock dragon."

Alfdis looked dumbstruck, but Hiccup's eyes darkened. He understood too well if he was any secret dragon rider at all, I supposed. Shifting onto his good leg (he had a fake leg, I noticed), the human rubbed his chin, looking at me thoughtfully. "I don't know…" he began, but suddenly an idea struck me.

Whirling around, I noted the surroundings. It was the exact same area where the hatchling's dagger was found, and I jumped over to that familiar cluster of rock to check, and it was. So if we were lucky, maybe the girl with the blonde hair and that squeaky Nadder of hers would still be around.

"Tempest, what are you doing?"

I ignored my hatchling's question and swung my tail, striking down a pillar. It hit the water with the same resounding wave just like the last time I did it. Dragon's hearing should be able to pick the sound with ease. I just hoped the action drew the _right_ dragon here, not the other ones who were howling for my blood.

"Did you hear that?" a voice yelled out somewhere in the distance. It was the same male's voice that had called "Astrid" back at midday. I breathed out a sigh in relief. So they _were _here after all.

"Snotlout!" Hiccup answered, his voice more happy than I could imagine possible for a human's. A grimace passed over Sweyn's face while his right hand fled to his wrist, and I realized that "Snotlout" was the one who dislocated it. Ah, some petty vengeance was in the future as well, eh?

A shriek-roar sounded, making the foreign Viking hastened his limping steps. Out of the mist, a sudden black blur shot out, slammed against him and pushed him to the floor. We stood, frozen, and watched as the Night Fury started licking a laughing human child's face like a lost dog who had just found its loving owner again. I…was not…aware that…Night Fury were capable of…um, that…

"Hiccup!" Astrid's voice cried out as Hiccup was finally able to stand up. He was slammed down again, this time by a flurry of blue fur and yellow. There was laughter in the distance as more dragons emerged from the mist and the oddest collection of humans all wanted a piece of Hiccup. Toothless stood back along with the dragons and watched. Judging from the Night Fury's eyes, I wouldn't say it was a stretch to predict that he would be in tears of happiness had he been human.

A hand rested at the scales behind my right cheek horns. "I think we are not invited," Sweyn said softly.

"We kind of are," Alfdis agreed. She'd moved to stand next to us without me noticing.

I glanced from the big group of hugging and punching and shoving bodies to Toothless. He was making his way toward us, and I stood to greet him. "You brought my friend back to me," he said, bowing his head. "I will return the favor some day."

"Yes," I agreed. "These midgets will need a ferry back into Death Rock. I'm branded a traitor already, and they won't spare me if they see me going around. I already took down one of their best warriors. Can you bring them home?" Nope, still not sinking in. Me. Traitor. Hunted by my own kins. No sense. I needed the children to safety first. _Then_ I would think more on that subject.

Toothless looked at me. "What about you?" he inquired. "Where will you go after this, if you are shunned from this place?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

"Berk always welcomed you," Toothless offered . He eyed the still-ruffling group of kids behind him with something between amusement, disdain and puzzlement. "After what you did, there is no way to not treat you like an honored guest."

"Toothless, how much say will you have in a dragon council?"

Both of us turned to Sweyn, who was looking between us expectantly. "Well?" he pressed, ignoring our shocked stares.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, but Sweyn was looking intently at the Night Fury, ignoring me.

Toothless gazed at the hatchling with a strange look in his eyes. "Somewhat," he said. "Why do you ask?"

Sweyn seemed to hesitate. He looked at me suddenly, considering, and I saw his eyes hardened. Laying a hand on the scale of my neck, he said, "Because I want to strike a deal with them. If we are lucky, it might save us all."

Suddenly Toothless looked a bit wary. "Does it involve us walking into the midst of some dozens bloodthirsty dragons?" he inquired.

Sweyn looked back at us innocently. I would have passed the look for not completely understanding the question, but the hatchling dashed that hope. "Well, yeah." At the stares we gave him, he squirmed a bit but said, "It's better than nothing."

Of course, the midget was correct. That didn't I have to like it, though. And I don't. I really, _really_ don't.

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**Review Replies (_A Hunter Once More_)**

**Medicant Bias: **Sweyn was with Alfdis while the pirates went for her. That's why. Yes, they're aiming for the chieftain's children, as you could've guess. The boy would be sold as slave later. I think slavery was still popular those days. I had the most amusing idea of sending Sweyn to Egypt and be a servant of a pharaoh, but Tempest would probably kill me. So yeah, he's safe. Somewhat. Now he's going to face some dozens of bloodthirsty dragons. Hiccup is okay, but I'm not going to be all bright and cheery after being held captive by a bunch of smelly seadogs for some weeks either. Give him time. And no, Hiccup does not know Dragonese. Maybe he'd take up learning after seeing Sweyn?

Regarding the age of Tempest: Timberjacks and Night Furies age differently, like how a cat and a human differ in their growth. Toothless, obviously, ages slower than Tempest. Tempest is early adult, about twenty-two or twenty-three in human's years. As said in "Night Visitor" Tempest regarded Toothless as an elder, because for her, if in normal years, he would be her great-great-great grandfather. However, in Night Fury's years, he was only mid-twenties. Yes, he was 22 times older than her by human's years. That didn't mean he wanted to be known as an old man to her, though.

These are my explanations. They are by no mean correct or should be taken as facts. I am just having a very creative imagination and the habit of justifying any opinion I made. Those are the rules of my own little world by all means. And I send thanks for the chocolate cake! I took a slice, Sweyn said the brown thing looks like mud and promptly refused it. Tempest ate the entire leftover cake.

**Darkdagers: **Well, what do you know? She's enjoying herself!

**wakazimaru: **She did. Mostly. I'd say about six or seven escaped out of the twenty-nine something on deck and the other ten rushing from belowdeck to join the fray. And it was Sweyn. I would've said it's Hiccup dying his hair black, but Hiccup can't run and he certainly can't climb as portrayed in last chapter's ending. That's why it's Sweyn.

**Marmelada: **Tempest enjoys sinking evil kidnappers' ships. What do you know?

**Whitefang333: **If it had only been Sweyn, Tempest might have left without a fight. However, since he needed time to do some rescuing of his own - well, that's how things are.

_We are drawing near to the climax. This story is taxing me. One or two more chapters and finally we are finished!_

Cheers (and reviews),  
~Cookie


	21. Backs to the Wall

_And I am back again. One step before the climax. Next chapter's gonna decide it all, probably. I'm trying not to be too lame on that. But enjoy this._

_Beta credits to _**Spyden**_, of course. Thanks again._

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**Backs to the Wall**

"This is _not_ going to work!" I repeated for what seemed like the fourteenth time that night. No, it _was_ the fourteenth time that night. Or was it fifteen? No, maybe twentieth. And the midget I was trying to convince was pointedly ignoring me.

We were still in the Loki's Field. Alfdis was sent home with the other dragons, Toothless included. I couldn't quite believe my eyes and I was sure he would kill me for this, but the Night Fury reminded me of a cross between a fussy mother hen and an overly-excited loyal puppy. Sure, I was happy to see Sweyn, too, but I was…not so, er, hysterical about it. Leaving that note aside, I believed I have shot enough dirty looks to that big-nosed human that got involved in the wrist dilemma. He would pay later. But as of now…

"Sweyn, _listen to me,_" I nearly pleaded, but dragons do not plead with annoying little humans. "You can't do this! This is madness!"

Half-Pint didn't meet my eyes, instead looking up at the starry sky above, his lips pressed together to form a thin line. In his hands, he held the dagger that he'd retrieved from the cluster of rocks. His legs were crossed, and he was as tense as the bowstring of the weapon he had lying next to him. The bow was several feet away from the dagger, but it was hidden under a pile of rocks so that I hadn't spotted it, along with the quiver.

I looked at his back expectantly, waiting for a response. There was none. He just kept staring at the stars, a wistful look in his eyes. Perhaps he knew that if this failed, he would never have a chance to see them again. He would probably die as dragon's food. That image was way more than just "likely" in my opinion, to be honest. It made my stomach have an extremely unpleasant reaction to the thought as well.

"I don't have a choice," Sweyn said at last, looking at me. A rueful smile was on his lips. "I know the risks, Tempest. I'm not stupid. And I know I will most likely die on this crazy venture. After all, the dragon council had no reason to listen to a little human kid, right?"

"Exactly," I answered, exasperated. "Which is why you should _not_ do it!"

"I can't leave Death Rock, and you can't leave me," Half-Pint pointed out. "There's no other way around." His eyes searched the stars again, looking for some sort of reassurance, I guessed. I looked at him with disdain. He wasn't going to surrender, was he? Not without a lot of pain, some bloody battles and a few burnt-up forests.

I looked at the sky mournfully. It wasn't that I didn't believe in the gods, but dragons had strength of their own to solve their own problems, so we almost never begged for divine help. Of all the years I have walked this world, there was only one time I've asked for help from the gods and that was when my dame was badly mauled. I've begged for some mercy, somebody to prolong her life. The result? A band of Terrible Terror made sure she was nothing more than a pile of gleaming white bones.

Okay, no. I am _not_ going to think that way.

But would they answer _now_, when it truly mattered? This was a friendship that just wasn't meant to be. The dragons went against it. The humans went against it. Would the heavens go against it as well? I had a pretty good idea regarding that aspect, but I wasn't willing to believe it. So I settled with watching the stars for possibly the last time in my life.

"I didn't want to go home," Sweyn said suddenly, but I didn't glance at him. Instead, I circled my tail around the hatchling and pulled him closer. He leaned against my side and sighed. "I didn't want to give them the joy that I've come back, just so they could lose me again tomorrow." Wise kid. Then he added, in a softer voice, "If I see them, I probably wouldn't be able to leave either."

So maybe I _should_ have kicked him onto a dragon and send him home after all. Get his family to tie him to his bed or something. Problem solved for him. I would be fine.

Silence engulfed us again, weary, fearful and tense. Finally, a single sob that was so small I almost missed it burst out. I blinked in shock, glancing at Sweyn. He was stretched out, looking at the sky with bitter acceptance as he tried to rub something wet from his face. "I don't want to die, Tempest." He issued a sound like between a choking sob and a chuckle as he wiped his tear. "Well, would you look at me? I talked big about striking a deal with dragons and blah-blah-blah, but now I'm crying like a wimp."

My stomach wrenched uncomfortably, but all I could do was wound my tail tighter around him and draped a wing over the little form. He was so…vulnerable. I didn't know he could ever _let_ himself be. Sweyn had never cried in front of me before, and he certainly didn't show any willingness to do so. When I glanced at him again, he was looking at me, and there was real fear in his eyes.

"I don't know how you view me, Tempest," he said, reaching out a hand and putting it behind my cheek horns. His voice was rushed, like he thought he wouldn't be able to say all of it if he slowed down. "But I'm not brave. I'm just too afraid of death to die. I'll take every chance in the world to make sure that I live another day." His eyes shot toward the heavens again. "Funny. If I've aborted this idea right now, then I would've lived in peace and you can go to Berk and everything will settle down nicely. Nobody will have to lose their lives. But…I can't." Sweyn shook his head in confusion. "I don't get it. This is stupid."

_Stupid_ was a vast understatement. Even _moronic_ was an understatement. What we were about to do was so stupid that it probably didn't even have a word to describe it. The whole plan was a shaky one with holes everywhere. The deal wasn't a good one either. There was about as much chance the council would say no as they would eat us – which is nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand. We were standing with our backs to the wall in this.

I glanced at Sweyn again, but he wasn't looking at me. Instead, he was fidgeting with his bow now. But I could tell he saw the problem as clearly as I did. There was no need of words between us anymore. I finally found someone with the same intellectual capacity as I did, and I was about to lose him to a bunch of stupid narrow-minded dragons.

But what am I saying? If he was going down, then I would go down as well. There was no "I" in this matter anymore. Whatever the council's outcome was, it would either free or doom us both. And I couldn't seem to quench the feeling of ill in the pit of my stomach, no matter how hard I tried to.

"Tempest, do you regret this?"

The question caught me by surprise. Sweyn had quit fiddling with his bow and was gazing at me expectantly. I thought about that. Really, do I? Did I like the fact that we were awaiting our doom? No. Did I like the fact that I was sentenced to death by my own people because of a human? Nope. Did I like it that my safe dragon life was interrupted by said human? Kind of.

But do I regret _knowing_ this human?

"No," I said decisively. "No, hatchling, I don't. Never have, never will." Curling myself contentedly around Sweyn, I let my head drop onto his lap and sighed. The salty smell of the ocean, the crashing of the waves and the chilly atmosphere created an odd sense of peace, even if it was just temporary.

I have never wished so much for a night to never end.

0o0o0o0o0

Something woke me at about midnight. It wasn't just a feeling, however. It was a strange, grating noise that somehow sent chills down my spine. I swore I've heard that noise before, but my mind, too befuddled with sleep and darkness, couldn't make out what the sound meant.

Well, I guessed whoever decided to spit a fiery fireball at the pillar six meters from my head helped me to remember the appropriate action in such a situation.

With all the grace of a dragon, I leaped onto my feet at the ruckus, my eyes searching out the misty darkness of the Loki's Field. In the distance, not even fifty meters away, something moved. The "thing" seemed to slither among the tall rock pillars and the carcasses of ships. Quickly, I noted that it was long and lithe – no, it could not have been a Gronkle. Those meatballs could never move without _some_ sort of loud noises.

The sound of a drawn bowstring could be heard under my right wing. I didn't bother to glance down, already knowing that Half-Pint had knocked an arrow and was waiting. His tension could be _felt_. A light crunching sound signaled that he'd stepped forward. I lifted my wing to give him a clearer view. To be completely honest, I didn't count on Sweyn's eyesight to be able to spot anything but the most obvious of movements. Still, he was a far cry from useless, and it just felt…reassuring, somehow, to have somebody else alerted and ready to fight.

"Dragon," Sweyn whispered. Indeed! Excellent observation, little man! He glanced at the smoking pillar once. "Timberjack?"

"Too destructive," I disagreed quietly, lowering my head. With narrowed eyes, I swept the ground before us suspiciously. The shape had vanished. Resisting the urge to swear, I continued to watch the misty surroundings, trying to find anything unusual, my heartbeat increasing slightly. For some reason, I felt a bit – what was the word? – _comfortable_? I must be totally mad now, I guess. But I felt I was back in my elements. Fighting, at least, I understand. It gave a little reassurance, a little _normality_, in the storm of confusion and seemingly out-of-this-world happenings that had been intruding into my usual life lately.

Shuffling sounds returned again, followed by the noise of rocks tumbling down into the sea. As one, we loosed our missiles in that direction, the arrow first followed by the fireball a moment later. There was a howl of pain, but it quickly ceased and silence claimed us once more. I didn't focus on the spot where the thing had just been hit, though, instead listening to everything around me. We might have more than one enemy.

The rest of my mind was occupied with a touch of fear and puzzlement. The fire had lighted our assailant. I recognized the shape and the way the fire glinted dully against those metallic-looking scales. But no – he could not have gotten down from those Ectoplasm Vines I've ensnared him in. Not this soon, at least. Knowing him, though…

"Up!" Sweyn's sharp cry tore me from my thoughts. I glanced upward just in time to see a jet of fire going at us. Jumping to the side along with Sweyn, I barely managed to dodge the missile. _No, this isn't time to think,_ I reminded myself sternly, listening to the telltale beats of a Monstrous Nightmare right above us. _This is time to act_.

Something rose from the water behind us, and my heart sank as I caught sight of the shape's owner. Oh, no. That could _not_ be. How did they know this? How did they know we were here? A traitor? Could be. Perhaps not Toothless, but one of his friends might – No, that was impossible. They were all human-bonded. They couldn't approach a Death Rock dragon without being mauled first.

Then how, exactly…?

Another landed on a pillar nearby, a dark black dragon that was shaped somewhat like a Timberjack without wings. Not that it needed to have wings, really. It was a Wind-Walker, and this breed somehow could actually _run_ on air. How they did that was nothing short of magic. They never told the others how they did it, though. But their claws were deadly, and they moved with unbelievable speed on ground.

To our right, another dragon landed. It was a Skrill, black as night with snake-like yellow orbs the size of Sweyn's fist glaring at us distastefully, but there was a touch of curiosity in them as well, and they rested mostly on Sweyn, like he could not possibly understand what the heck this thing was. I covered the hatchling with my wing and snarled warningly, fighting the urge to jump him right there and then. His eyes returned to me, and he met my eyes. I didn't look away.

"So it came down to this, fledging," an eerily familiar voice said calmly. "I must say, I am impressed. You managed to evade the hunters this long. I would have been proud had I been your teacher."

If my stomach had been somewhere near my hind legs before, now it dropped all the way to the tip of my tail. I tried not to quiver as the speaker strode through the mist and into view, venom-yellow eyes studying me – studying _us _– with quiet amusement. He stopped ten meters out of my reach and sat back on his haunches, tilting his head.

"We have…ah –" the old, dark Timberjack gazed at the moon thoughtfully – "about several hours left before dawn. I think that should be enough for you to tell us exactly what is going on here, Tempest?" The use of my human-given name was casual, but it elicited growls of disgust from the other dragons that were surrounding us. I glared back at them if only briefly. My attention was solely on the familiar dragon before us.

I could hear Sweyn's heart beat faster and could smell his fear-scent. So he _did_ have a practical mind. Who knew?

"Well then," Lavabreath said merrily, "can we start this thing before I die of old age?"

Looks like Toothless would find nothing but our carcasses in the morning after all. This hadn't gone as anticipated. If I was going to live through this, I would personally skin the spy who leaked out our hiding place and then crunch his bones in my mouth. Kin-slayer or not, it would be a fitting fate for that sly lizard.

_And if I don't,_ I added to myself grimly, feeling the hungry, disgusted, curious and amused gazes of the gathered Dragon Council around me, unconsciously pressing Sweyn closer to my flanks, _I shall haunt him for the rest of my immortal afterlife. Then when he dies, I shall pulverize his spirit until there is nothing left of his pathetic soul._

The first sounded best – I hate waiting – but the second…seemed the most realistic.

Oh, Odin helps us. This is going to be a _long_ and painful night.

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**Review Replies (and an effing lot of those, too)**

**Darkdagers:** Actually, I ruled out the cave. More of a seashore girl, you know. But the council found our heroes nonetheless, and now they are going _down_. Stay tuned. I'm trying to think of a creative way to get Sweyn mauled.

**Alana-kittychan: **Yes, that's true. One good thing - for them.

**wakazimaru: **Second thought: change that to a "seaside full of bloodthirsty dragons". But they _are_ still bloodthirsty dragons. Stay tuned.

_Now to the long-winded folks..._

**Medicant Bias: **Your review is longer than five of mine put together on a good day...But thank you! Yes, gore. I hate sissy writings too. Have some details about battles for once! Not "he stabbed her there and blood spurts out" and call that done. Don't worry, my stories will contain lots of that if I have my way - and I _will_ have my way.

Aye, the gang's back together. And yeah, Hiccup's a little _too_ good with dragons, don't you think? I'm thinking a jealous Sweyn! I intend to get somebody killed next chapter. All hands are pointing at Sweyn. Then Tempest would be all angsty and poof, another sequel featuring the bitter dragon who had lost a rider to her stupidity. We shall see. And I'm considering Hiccup to learn Dragonese as well. It makes perfect sense, after all.

The way how they all found out will be posted in WatD: Drabbles when I have time. Now I'm trying to finish this thing for you folks.

Tempest took roughly...three weeks from the time they met until she really accepted him. Their relationship and trust were built more slowly compared to Hiccup and Toothless' is because 1) Toothless is the only one of his kind. I imagine the other dragons (and _lesser_ dragons, no less) would fear him = he has no friends. Tempest lived as a part of a community; she had friends, peers, teachers and such. I don't think she was so desperate to find a friend. Her relationship to Sweyn started out as the same curiosity you might have for a blind cat that just kept living on and dodging traffics. It all snowballed together and here we are.

2) I don't think the movie is realistic in that aspect. Friendships can't be bridged overnight or just after a dance and a drawing. It takes even more time for _enemies_ to be friends. Believe me, I have personal experiences with that. And in the case of Toothless and Hiccup, they didn't start out by a to-the-death cat-and-mouse game where the goal is to gut the human as soon as he slows down. Will _you_ trust a tiger after it tried to kill you? Will you trust a shark after it bit off one of your limbs and makes you crippled? And Sweyn was more doubtful than Hiccup. He didn't want to make friends. He _had_ friends already.

Aside from that, I'd think Hiccup and Toothless had some...special connections. They worked together as a team flawlessly, as the movie showed us. Sweyn and Tempest are not partners of hearts and minds. They just _are_. Good friends who can understand each other, not born into this world to be soul partners and all that stuff. I don't want to make Sweyn mirror the original pair in every aspect, so as it would be unoriginal for me as the writers and lame for you as the readers. This is my dragon and my rider, and not every dragon/rider out there meets a soul partner.

Yes, the dragon community works like countries. Right now, Berk and Death Rock held the most power in that stand, seeing as the two main dragon nests were there. While Berk dragons have already had enough of being ordered around and were rather unaware that islands surrounding them had dragons that will answer to their commands because there is a Night Fury who defeated the Red Death himself on it, Death Rock council was well aware of this fact. So you could say that Death Rock was a country, but its power makes the other countries' dragons answer to their request for help, forcefully or not. Berk and Death Rock are far apart, however, so war between the dragons will most likely not happen.

I would be jealous too, if a "beast" made my friend laugh and I can't. Wouldn't you? And thanks.

Toothless is happy. Toothless is protective. I am starting to suspect he was actually a she. You can see my drabbles for that (the _other_ series of HTTYD drabbles). And really, Tempest did have a reason to be surprised. But I know a few people who is willing to beg for their friends but too proud to beg for themselves in real life. Lowering yourself for a friend is not that strange or rare. Humans are still capable of that. Why not dragons? Animals are more loyal than humans.

Oh, the pirates will have a counter-attack alright. And they used sneaky techniques to kidnap the two. Hiccup went out for a walk in the middle of the night (for all his wisdom, he couldn't figure out it's dangerous) and they wrapped Toothless into a nice little ball with bolas, drugged him, dragged him onto the boat and called it done. For the Death Rock folks, Alfdis and Sweyn escaped from security, trying to send help to their allies of the south. They got caught, too. That's how.

Can we shorten this up? I have some more reviewers to answer. Sorry. And yes, the _main_ storyline will end in one chapter. There _are_ loose ends to tie up, so expect two or three more.

Strange. The cheesecake didn't arrive at my house - Hey, LUGAR! SWEYN! Give that back! -throws knives at thieves-

**Whitefang333:** One more chapter now and some more to tie up loose ends. But don't worry. I'm thinking of a sequel. There's no way to tie this whole thing up neatly with only one story.

**marmelada: **On the boat, they already sorted it out. They got an entire night to do it after all. I'll write the gapfiller and post it on WatD: Drabbles if I have time. Like I said above, tying up the threads left hanging will take some more chapters. The climax is next. Storytelling? Hm. Indeed. But wasn't Tempest already telling somebody her story as she went through this one? She had to be talking to someone, right? And this is it.

**just me: **Yeah. I need a set of creative substitutes for those human terms of measurements.

**Radec: **Here's another!

**ArcticFox: **Well, just don't fall asleep at the breakfast table the next morning :) I'm very glad you liked it. This thing is mainly an excercise at characters than a story at first, but it grew into this. Wow. What the reviewers can do...

_So I'm leaving you hanging. Come back in another nine day (hopefully less) and you'll see the rest. No comments. I'm tired. I need breakfast. I skipped breakfast for this. Send me eggs and cheese, you! Or reviews. Lots and lots of reviews._


	22. Council of Doom

_Chapter 22. Sorry for the delay and THANK YOU for all the positive reviews I've received. This story is nearing the mark of 90 reviews...Unbelievable._

_Thanks to _**Spyden**_, of course, for your awesome beta-ing powers._

_Oh, another note: I cut the climax into two parts. This is the semi-climax and the next chapter will be climax. No, I'm not trying to put off writing this part. Yes, I am very nervous about it, but we'll have to get there some time._

* * *

**Council of Doom**

Before I retell this part, perhaps there would be a need for introductions.

The Dragon Council was formed of seven dragons, one representative for each race. There was the Wind-Walker, the Steel Reaper, Timberjack, a Skrill, the Doomfang that almost never showed her face except on absolutely necessary councils, a Monstrous Nightmare (the only of the Common Races in the council; you should've heard him boast) and finally, a Mood-dragon.

I knew little of any of them except by name or by looks, but I did know the three eldest of the council. One was, of course, Lavabreath, the other was the Steel Reaper and the last, the eldest, was the Doomfang. The rest were teachers and peers, but I rarely spoke to them even when I entered adulthood, so there was nothing much to tell about except that all of them had a pretty high sense of "dragon pride" and that sort of thing, so I didn't feel particularly happy to see any of them.

Although judgment by them was rarely given since we pretty much took care of ourselves – most effective way to end an argument = kill the dragon offending you because the dead don't talk – there were times when the Dragon Council was gathered to decide something that might affect our entire population. Thus, I've never heard of them deciding to actually judge a _traitor_ before.

But then again, this council was probably called so that they could decide which way was most fitting to "punish" me. It was, in some twisted way, an honor. No individual dragon had gained the attention of the entire council before me that I knew of, and dragon memories tended to be long and accurate. The elder wyrms said nothing, so I assumed I was the first.

Standing there, though, trying in vain to face all seven dragons at once with only one pair of eyes gave me the feeling that this was exactly how a cornered mouse felt in front of predators. Add desperation to the list, too, because this "mouse" here had to protect a fly along with her.

For a second, I contemplated fleeing. Fleeing would be good. I would once again bring us to that far island where I trapped Steel and spent a few days there before returning to Death Rock to find Toothless. If he wasn't there, then I would drop off the hatchling and go to Berk. End of story.

But there were numerous holes in that plan, which I realized a few moments later: the dragons had identified Sweyn. If he stayed, they would hunt him down every living second of their lives (which would be _long_). I couldn't go to Berk because _here_ was my home. Travel trips some thirty miles away? Fine. Travel trip around the world? Fine also. But I wanted a home, where I could return to…with friends waiting – although that might just be a bonus.

Aside from that, I wasn't too sure I could beat any of these reptiles in fight or in flight.

So yeah, we were cornered. Fun.

"Been awhile, Tempest," Lavabreath said in the usual bright-and-cheery voice he used for under-the-sun conversations with the younger fledgings. Like always, there was a tingle down my back, but this time it developed into a whole chill. I glanced at my ancient cousin and watched him lying on his stomach, tapping the pebbly ground with the tip of his tail.

There was a sneer of disgust somewhere behind me. Definitely the Nightmare. One candidate from the seven gone from our support.

"Well, now, don't look at me like that!" Lavabreath feigned hurt. "I'm not that weird! Am I, Scythe?"

The equally-ancient Steel Reaper (conveniently Steel's sire) snorted. "Oh yes. You are that weird." He paused. "Or worse."

As I've said beforehand, we had few Steel Reapers on the island around here, for they lived further down south. Despite ongoing debates, however, I didn't think Scythe was a mystery just because he was one of the rarer kinds in our Nest. Steel was a jerk and the wyrm's mate, Riversong, had a temper to match her beauty – which was considerable. You should have seen the other males doted all over her.

Scythe, though, was unpredictable at the best of times. He showed little emotions other than a strange glint in his huge dark green eyes every now and then as he watched the little ones grow. Whenever he walked up to you, you never could tell if he was going to give a shrimp-sized compliment, correct you or blast you with his fire because he deemed that your antics needed to end _now_. He didn't tell jokes to the younger ones. He only did that with his family and his two best friends. He was a tough teacher, through and through.

Basically, I had the impression this one was out for our blood.

– Which was actually a good prediction. He was glaring at us like we were the nastiest poisonous eel he'd ever seen. Or tasted.

"Ahem, who is the so-called 'traitor' here?" Lavabreath was speaking again. He spared me and the human a glance, one of curiosity rather than malice, although I swore there was hunger as he sought Sweyn out.

I pressed Sweyn closer and snarled before I could stop myself. Bad move.

Growls went around again, and I could hear noises as the dragons shifted. Scythe looked at us warningly, lowering his head. My legs tensed, prepared to leap into action. So this was the way it would be. A familiar noise told me the hatchling had his bow notched.

"Enough."

Normally I wouldn't have been startled, but my high-strung nerves made me jump slightly, and there was a squawk of surprise that sounded suspiciously close to our resident Mood-dragoness. The tone itself brought no real warning though. It was just a precaution, spoken in a calm, deep voice that echoed among the rocks. I risked a glance behind me to look into the old Doomfang's dark eyes.

"We shall not fight like dogs," the dragoness, Oceanwrath, continued. She spared me a very brief glance before facing the other members. "We came here for a _council_, not a slaughter. If we pride ourselves to be more level-headed and reasonable than humans, let us act like it."

Grumbles of discontentment answered her, but the folks settled down and it was all nice and calm again. "Might as well kill them and get this over with," the Wind-Walker murmured, agreed with by the Nightmare. The Mood-dragoness snorted, but our Skrill remained silent, as did the other two oldest members of the council.

"I do not believe in action without cause," Oceanwrath stated. "So we might want to hear the Timberjack's story before we decide what we should do with her…and her human friend."

"Oh, I heard it," Lavabreath butted in. "An excellent story, it is. Very nice. Very crazy. I like crazy," he added as an afterthought.

Exasperated growls sounded, but only softly. After all, no matter how crazy my cousin was, he was the second oldest dragon on the entire island that was still alive. For my part, I just stared at him like I've never seen him before. Then it flashed back: the large golden eyes looking at me in that cave some time ago after I was done telling Trouble my story. So _that_ was him. Note to self: check the entrance next time before telling a secret.

"Ignoring the last sentence," Scythe cut the wyrm off, annoyed, "I am very sorry to say that I do not trust this old lizard's taste in stories. However, I am willing to hear them speak. But it'd better be a _very_ good reason why you brought a filthy human under your wing, Winter." His voice had grown decisively sinister.

That, somehow, made me feel defensive.

"Sweyn saved a hatchling of our own," I said firmly. "Trouble, offspring of Trackersmoon. He is a Toxic Nightshade dragon. Send one of your own back to testify this statement if you do not believe me."

"And you believe we would fall for that –"

"Winter is correct," the Skrill, Nightfall, interrupted the Wind-Walker. "I have spoken to this hatchling – whose broken bones and numerous injuries are thanks to our resources – and he had said the same thing. He did not tell me the whole tale, however. He was determined not to betray his friend a second time."

Alright, I…wasn't expecting that. But I'm not going to complain.

Snorts and jeers. Thoughtful murmurs. The usual. Nothing forthcoming, though. "Are you convincing them to kill us?" Sweyn whispered so low that I could barely hear him above the dragons and the ocean waves.

"No," I hissed back. "Don't talk. Act mute and dumb."

I ignored the withering glance the hatchling sent me and glanced around us again. Oceanwrath watched the arguments going around with her usual calm expression before she spoke again, and as always, her voice silenced everyone except for the two other elders.

"So this is what brought you to your friendship with the human youngling?" Oceanwrath asked and for once, the question was directed at me. I turned around to face her and dipped my head in respect, but I decided against lying. These dragons probably had centuries practicing picking up truths and lies.

"No, Eldest. It was, ah, a rougher start than that. Much rougher," I said slowly, carefully. What should I tell them? No, _how much_ should I tell them? Perhaps refined parts of the story only, because there were a few other things where I was very willing _not_ to let the hatchling hear it. Glancing at the grey eyes under my wing once, I reached a decision.

It was easy enough, getting through the first part. How the chase started out, how the little one threw a dagger at me and then ran for his life. How I gave him a merry chase around the woods. Then it came to the cornering part. I had no trouble remembering, since it was vivid in my mind. That was my first _real_ impression of the hatchling and just exactly _what_ he was capable of doing – or would do. We got a few blinking eyes at that part, but otherwise nobody said anything.

The reaction we got at the part where Half-Pint dropped onto my back, however, was not quite what I'd expected.

"You let a filthy human jump you like a pack donkey, lizard?" the Wind-Walker (Stormgust – once again, marvel at the originality of names) spat, poised to strike. I whirled to face him, baring my fangs. If he wanted to fight, fine. But I _will_ defend my friend, and if there would be a carcass after this, so be it.

"Silence!" Scythe thundered. "Control yourself, Stormgust." He turned to look at me for a moment before looking at the little shadow under my wing, a faint, curious mix of respect and disapproval in his eyes. "Jumping a dragon in flight without weapons, eh? Quite a foolish act."

"But it worked," I said. "He managed to get out. Although how he clung on to me shall forever remain a mystery."

So we got to the island part. How Sweyn sat there clicking his teeth together in the cold, how I decided that maybe this curious human would make an excellent little thing to observe for the next year. Now that I thought of it, that was how it really got started. I was impressed – impressed and overly inquisitive – and that had somehow developed into a friendship. He was just supposed to be something to keep me from getting bored all winter. Somehow, sometime, he had managed to gain equal footings with me (well, of course, not really _equal_ footings, since I was a dragon) and I've learned to respect the hatchling. Funny…how time and days under the weak sun could do that.

Winter moved on. The wheel spins. We befriended. We ran around together. We learned to trust. We learned to tolerate. We learned about each other. We grew to be what we were now. I completely skipped the part with the oak tree since I didn't want to chance Sweyn's knowledge in Dragonese. That would be one secret I would keep from him forever. At least…until I had the courage to get over it.

Then we got to the part where I saw him save Trouble. He'd itched to do it before, I'd noticed, and it seemed that only my presence had finally assured that it was alright to _move_. He was afraid of the price he would pay for that act in front of his people, maybe. And paid he did. Sweyn was stiff for a week. He was called a traitor. To save a young one that belonged to his _enemy_.

My payment for him was the only other thing I could offer that would be worthy of _his_ sacrifice – for one of us: flight.

Of course, that led to the saddle. And then the Dragonese. And I was quite surprised to find that the fancy moves that I invented that had only been used in a serious emergency were performed just because it would make him laugh or it would make him happy. I didn't want him hurt. I wanted to protect the hatchling. It was a puzzling thing, crossing the lines of casual observation to real friendship without even noticing it.

Finally, the events led up to that day with the Night Fury and Sweyn's brother and friend. I made quick words of that before moving on to the night spent with Trouble, how I told him what I was telling the Council now, and then the next morning when the alarm had been rung across the island to hunt me down and kill me on sight.

"So Steel was trapped in a bunch of Ectoplasm Vines on an island far away from here," Scythe said when I was finished.

"Um, yes."

"And are you joking about the Skullions or not?" His voice had grown rather menacing, but I decided the truth was better than lie anyway. Even though, yes, the truth took awhile to properly come out.

"No. But they won't get anywhere near him. Those are _sticky_ vines, so they can't walk on it. Besides, those things don't eat dragons," I answered quickly. "Your son is safe. He should be able to get off them after another two days or so." _Hopefully._ _Maybe a week if he hadn't the brain to not struggle._

Lavabreath nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, sticky situation," he mused. But before Scythe could say that he was tired of his friend's remarks, Lavabreath studied us with a critical eye, his gaze resting on Sweyn and accessing him for a full minute before he lifted his head and faced the council. I couldn't resist but turned and looked around as well. All the dragons had remained silent except for a few mumbled curses here and there throughout the story, but for the respect of the elders, no (overly) loud protests were made.

Well, that ended now.

"Traitor and spy," Stormgust said without remorse.

"Coward," the Monstrous Nightmare snarled in agreement. I heard the dragon shift and turned to face him, still trying to cover Sweyn. However, the hatchling had already stepped into the opening and pointed his notched arrow at the direction of the Nightmare who looked all too ready to jump.

The Nightmare whose name (and only _his _name) I couldn't remember narrowed his eyes and surged forward slightly. It was a feint, but I stepped between them and snarled. No, if this was going to end in blood, then it would be _my_ blood.

"Whoo-hoo," the Mood-dragoness, Pearl, cheered. "Some action at last!"

"Hush, fledging," Oceanwrath shushed her, but she wasn't rising to our defense. Oh, really? After everything you've said for us? I'm taking back all the silent thanks I gave you since the beginning.

Suddenly Sweyn lowered his bow. Still looking at the dragons warily, he slowly plucked the arrow off the weapon and returned it to the quiver slung across his back. Then he put the bow with the arrows as well.

"I can strike a deal," the hatchling said, facing Lavabreath. "Will you listen to it?"

Oh, right. The deal. I didn't want to make the hatchling feel bad, but I didn't have the feeling that it would be very inviting right now. Glancing at his back, I decided to trust him this once and shifted so as to clear my tail enough for him to see but close enough so I could protect him if anyone made a move. I wouldn't take a single chance with anyone.

Lavabreath tilted his head expectantly. "Listening," he said.

"Fine." The hatchling blew out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at me guiltily before adjusting his gaze again, like he couldn't bear to look at me anymore.

Wait. Guiltily?

"I will fight one of you," Sweyn burst out. "If I manage to pull off one of my foe's scale, you will have to give me – give us – until summer's end to prove that humans _can_ coexist peacefully with dragons."

For a few moments, I had trouble grasping the entire concept. Staring at the hatchling, dumbfounded, I didn't even try to sort through my muddled mind for some time. Then it clicked in. Sweyn. Fight. One of ours. Pulling off a scale. If he won, he would be safe. _We_ would be safe. At least for awhile. If not…

"I will have your promise that no dragon would attack either me or Tempest," Sweyn continued rapidly, the words almost jammed together. "In turn, I won't attack a dragon either and will only fight them in self-defense or if they provoked me. And I will not say anything to my people about you that will put you at a disadvantage."

Nobody said anything for awhile after he was finished. I was, naturally, the first to break it. That wasn't the deal! For the first time since I met him, I wanted to bite the midget's neck and shake him for his stupidity. And of all the places, why here? Why _now_? Did he _have_ to make my life more difficult than it already was?

"Hatchling," I growled dangerously, making Sweyn turn to face me. But his eyes weren't masked with bravery as I've expected from some of the other Vikings I have fought when they were about to die fighting. All I could see was the very definition of fear. Fear and desperation. He was biting down hard on his lower lip, but I could still see it quivering slightly. His skin was somewhat pale, but he kept his face rigid. His hands were fisted into the hem of his thick woolen tunic.

That somehow tugged at one of my heart strings. I could _feel_ myself softening as I circled my tail around the little one and flaring out my wings to block us from view, not caring who saw and who didn't. "You don't have to do this," I breathed gently, bringing my head up so that my snout could touch his brow. He felt clammy and cold. Not a good sign.

"We…" Sweyn paused. "We don't have a choice." He took a rather shaky breath and exhaled, straightening up. Reaching up, the hatchling gently pushed my snout away, but he didn't remove his hand. "Let's take a chance. At least it's a chance."

Chance. Yes, it _was_ a chance. Actually, it was a possible chance. But too slim. And too risky.

But then again, the damnable human was right: we didn't have a choice.

"I have to do this." Sweyn smiled a little. "Let me kick a dragon butt and then we can go home again and lounge around 'til next year, okay?"

I searched his face. It was remarkable how well he'd been able to clamp down so fast; now he was still white, but his eyes were hardened and his jaw squared. His other hand wasn't relaxed, but at least it wasn't clinging to his clothes anymore. It just hung by his side, seeming awkward on its own, like it didn't know what it should be doing.

"Let me go," Sweyn whispered, almost to himself. "Trust me."

It all came down to a simple matter of trust. I just wasn't sure if I should answer "alright" or think of some clever, evasive ways to say no. For a brief moment, I wondered if it was too wild a dream to just snatch the hatchling up and make a flight for it. If the gods were with us, we might _just_ get out of this with a missing limb or two.

But then those eyes looked at me again, demanding and begging at the same time. So I relented. I lifted my wings and sat back on my haunches, breaking the little haven we've just created to come back to reality. Well, I guess fantasies could only last so long.

Scythe was speaking. "Very well. It is a sound deal." I glanced at him to see the wyrm gestured with his head to somebody that I was turning my back to. "We've chosen your opponent. Step forth, human, and prove yourself."

The air of anticipation was almost palpable in the air while I felt disbelief whaling up in my chest. Disbelief and then desperation. "But he is a child!" I nearly begged to Scythe. "He could not win against one of our adults. How could he win against an _elder_?"

"Then he shouldn't have proposed the deal in the first place," Scythe replied calmly. "Step back, fledging. You have said and done enough. Let us evaluate your _friend_ now, not you." His tone indicated that it was final. I didn't have the nerves to argue against the cold and hard voice.

I looked at the little hatchling again before reluctantly, slowly removing my tail around him and stepped back. He mirrored my action. Soon I was standing next to Oceanwrath and him ten meters away from me. Short distance, enough to cover in a single leap. But I would probably get us both killed if I decided to interfere. Dragons didn't like outsiders' interventions in fights.

The Mood-dragoness, Pearl, jumped down gracefully from her perch on her beloved pillar and landed fifteen meters in front of Sweyn, who had drawn his dagger. Dark violet and deep grey accessed each other for a second before Pearl's blue-white coat turned into a slightly darker shade of blue, baring her teeth in a sardonic smile.

She was ready.

* * *

_Can you imagine what Tempest would do to her midget after this idiotic deal Sweyn proposed to fight a dragon? I can. Well, I'll leave that to your imagination. Mine's working overtime._

_Pray that our human lives to see the dawn, people. He might need it. A lot. Really, really need it._

**Review Replies (_Backs to the Wall_)**

**wakazimaru: **Ah, thank you! -eats eggs and cheese- On with the review. Yes, that's the council. Yes, there will be a sequel. For the sake of pacing. But stick with me, folks! We're nearing the end!

**.byebye: **Ah, a new reviewer! I'm glad you enjoyed this piece. Stick with it for a few more chapters and do remember to review at the very end.

**Medicant Bias**: Yeah, I'm feeling bad for Sweyn, too, so I might spare him. But I wouldn't say he would escape unscathed from this venture. But then he would have to deal with Tempest. I do think it is normal for some people who became violent when they were relieved. And do you agree that there should be a television show for HTTYD, the way Madagasca did? I do.

Apparently there is a spy somewhere, but we will have to wait and see. I agree, bad place to get caught, but it could certainly be worse. They were lucky the council wasn't nearly as bad as they thought. At least there were a few rational brains in there.

I wrote angsty stuff? -looks back on the last chapter- Oh, yeah. I didn't even notice. But it feels logical to be terrified before your encounter with your very-possible-killers, so yeah, I did that. As for why they can't go to Berk: will you run away from home and everything you have ever known to some strange lands with your newfound friend? Sweyn wasn't _that_ wild.

**Radec:** You wouldn't believe how I appreciate this review. But my stories still have a long way to go. Yes, I enjoyed human-dragon partnership as well, and actually, I was thinking about writing a book base on this idea. The plot's not complete yet, but it's building up. If I ever have the time and the determination for it, maybe I will. And perhaps Sweyn would get out of this alive - I don't know yet; the story's writing itself - but the sequel will most likely have both of them in it. I don't do angsty stuff well, so I didn't want to focus the entire sequel on a moping dragoness.

And good news for you: this chapter wouldn't be the last. _Pacing_, remember? A few more chapters. I am very glad you like this story so much.

**Eyes Wide Open 2010:** First of all, welcome to FF. net. Second, I'm very happy that you enjoyed this piece of fun I stirred up. I had to admit, it was quite hard to write this without my usual knack of sorcery in it, but it turned out okay in the end. I hope you will continue enjoying We are the Differences and its sequel, which should be coming out in August.

_And now, I will retreat, do my math homework and sketch the next chapter. Once again, my breakfast went to ruins. So if you don't mind sending scrambled eggs...?_


	23. To Finish the Fight

**To Finish the Fight**

Dragons were – are – killing machines.

We were born to fight. Just like the humans were gifted with nimble fingers and creative minds, we were gifted with powerful talons, teeth and nearly impenetrable armors as our scales. Yes, I agree, humans have come up with some nifty ways to get through our natural defenses, but most of them were not efficient. Our inborn sense of war would never bow down to anything.

That said, you could probably see a long, _long_ list of wrong things about going against an elder dragon with a _dagger_.

I was having trouble breathing normally as I watched Pearl and Sweyn circle each other. Neither of them had made a move as of yet, but that wouldn't last long. Although I had little to no contact with the Mood-dragoness, I've heard all over the islands (yes, _many_ islands) of her love of winning and how she would use any and every method in the world to achieve victory. Tearing off a few limbs and poking out a few eyes were the norm.

For the fifth time in the last five minutes, I forced down the foreboding feeling that was creeping up my spine. My whole body was taut, and I couldn't relax it. Sweyn might be able to win in a chase, but this was a fight. And really, I have never seen him fight anything aside from my tail when I decided to humor him by poking him with it. Even then, he'd only dodged and run – and shout profanities at me – but he'd never stand and fight before. I suppose he had a reason not to, mainly because he would probably come out dead.

Humans. Do they ever apply logic to their decisions?

"From one fool to another," Nightfall murmured. "I have to admit, you two make an excellent pair."

I ignored him, instead leaning forward slightly as I saw Pearl's legs tensed. In a lightning movement, she was already landing on the place where the hatchling was – or had been. Sweyn was standing less than a meter away from her head, his back to me. He'd somehow evaded the lunge – which, considering he was a human, was actually quite good. Most of them just grabbed the dragon mid-air and toss it away.

And guess what the idiot did when I _just_ started to compliment him? He did something stupid. Like, for instance, jumping on the back of the dragon.

With a roar, Pearl shook herself thoroughly like a wet mule trying to dry itself. Sweyn's hands, however, remained firm around her neck like a steel collar and he hung on quite impressively. He didn't reach for a scale yet. That would mean getting thrown off, and he would not want that. As long as he was on Pearl's back, it means he was safe from claws, tails, fangs and fire and other things.

Unfortunately, humans weren't the one who invented that move. Shaking off her shock, the Mood-dragoness rolled onto her back and started struggling, belly up. It was the easier way to dislodge an enemy who was on your back and the second-least painful. For dragons, they could fly and twist around until said enemy was thrown off, slam themselves against walls or…do what Pearl was doing.

Luckily for Sweyn, he seemed to have seen the threat and hurriedly got off before Pearl could complete her movement, therefore only making her head bang against his left shin. It would hurt like Thor for the next several weeks, but at least it was minimal damage. Considering that Sweyn had successfully avoided getting maim twice in the last three minutes and had also successfully riled up Pearl, he would see far worse from now on.

I fought down the urge to hurl myself at Pearl and put myself between the human and her as she got back up, humiliation turning her amusement and arrogance at the beginning into malice and fury. The way her eyes flashed didn't assure me at all. Sweyn had made her seem like a fool in front of her colleagues and the most power dragons on and around Death Rock. Now she wouldn't underestimate this human child anymore.

That would make the Top Topic for Gossip at the Dens for the next five weeks for sure. Imagine what it would be if Sweyn actually _survived_ and managed to complete the object of this fight. It would be a legend.

And therein lies the problem.

Pearl roared, pouncing on Sweyn again, who, instead of jumping sideways or backward as any sensible person would tell you, ran forward and went into a roll, ducking beneath her. He didn't escape her claws entirely, though, and earned himself a graze on the back of his tunic. It wasn't long and I hope it wasn't deep, but soon I could see crimson blood staining the thick gray tunic he was wearing. If it was possible, I tensed even more.

"Calm yourself," Oceanwrath's voice said like we were discussing the fish in the ocean. "He is doing better than I had expected."

"Although he just keeps dodging," Lavabreath mused. "Is your friend incapable of fighting or what?"

"Probably," I mumbled, not willing to tell that Sweyn preferred running instead of fighting but couldn't quite lie to the Elders. Then I added defensively, "But you have to admit, he's doing fine. He's trying to get a scale, not maim Pearl." _And avoid being maimed._

Above me, Nightfall cocked his head in disbelief. "Is that even possible?" He was, of course, regarding the matter of Sweyn being able to maim Pearl or not.

Nay. But you don't need to know that.

I returned my attention to the duel (hardly so when one was completely focused on running and the other striking) happening before us. Currently Sweyn was standing with his back to me, the snorting and snarling Pearl in front of him. On his dagger was blood, and I spotted a gash right underneath Pearl's head, not deep enough to cause much damage but enough to warn her this human was no amateur in the art of harming with minimum contact.

She was beside herself with fury, I noted, looking at the Mood-dragoness with concern. She'd had first blood, but it really didn't matter. Sweyn had gotten even with her in that aspect, and he wasn't looking as if he would be dumb enough to go dancing into her reach. He struck once or twice before escaping her grasp again – a coward's way of fighting – but effective nonetheless. And it was effectiveness that really mattered now.

Pearl thought otherwise.

"Cheat!" she roared. "Coward! Just like your 'friend'! You are nothing but a coward!"

How Sweyn managed to find enough space in his brain that should have been occupied with "not getting killed by angry dragon" to actually translate that piece of speech and retort to it. But I had to admit, I was worried of the comeback he all but spat out.

"Why are you complaining? Who said I fight fair? Who said _anyone _fights fair?" I could clearly see the strange flicker in his eyes when he was angry. "Or is it because you know that you can't catch me? If this is how you want to protect your so-called honor, then I pity you."

I winced inwardly. Not wise, not wise, not wise –

"Pathetic little _animal_!" Pearl launched herself at Sweyn with incredible speed, and this time, she managed to nail him. Or his wrist, that was. Sweyn had jumped long before the Mood-dragoness pounced, but he still wasn't fast enough. One of her foreclaws now clamped down on his right wrist, pinning him onto the graveled ground.

As if that wasn't bad luck enough, Sweyn gave a sharp exclamation of pain when his wrist was pressed on, and as he turned his face sideway, I saw that it was going from slight pale to nearly snow-white. My stomach wrenched in fear. It was the wrist that was dislocated, that was for sure. Alright, so maybe I _will_ chew on the fool who did this for as long as I could before I eat him. If the Nightmare gets in the way, I will deal with her.

Sadly, Pearl seemed to have to come to the same conclusion, and flashing another one of her cruel toothed grins, she pressed down harder on the captured wrist. The hatchling cried out again, and this time I surged forward, desperate to do _something_, anything.

Before I could, however, a dark navy tail fell down before me, blocking my path. "It is his fight," Oceanwrath chided as I turned to glare at her furiously. How this dragoness could make me feel like a foolish fledging with just a few words was beyond me. "And besides, he is retaliating." She cocked her head toward the two, and I tore my gaze from her to return to the fight when I heard another painful cry – this time, draconic.

Sweyn was scrambling to his feet, the dagger having been transferred from his right hand to his left, dripping with black blood. My eyes shot toward Pearl's right foreclaw and saw that it was bleeding. The hatchling must've stabbed her with it and wrenched free of her grasp when she lifted it out of reflex. Not bad a reaction for a boy with a broken (or breaking) wrist.

The hatchling was starting to move backward, but then he suddenly paused for exactly half a second before launching forward, toward Pearl, threw down the dagger he was holding and touched her scaled side as the dragoness was still rearing from shock and pain – for all I know, the dagger had gone right through. Mood-dragons' bones weren't nearly as sturdy as other species'.

_What in the name of gods are you doing?_ I screamed with my mind. But it was done. Sweyn's fingers closed around one of the scales and yanked, pulling it free. For a single second, I could see the glee and relief in his face as he completed his objective. He won. We would have what we have asked to be given. Peace, if only for a short while.

But then again, what looked too good to be true often was.

Pearl elicited a piercing scream as she swung in a circle, her tail hitting him clean across the face and sending him flying toward one of the rock columns just several meters from her. I could hear the crack as Sweyn's side slammed against it and watched in mute horror as he bounced off and hit the floor again.

I hardly heard Scythe's announcement that it was over. When he finished speaking his two-word sentence, I was already by the downed hatchling's side, nudging him with my snout. Oh, no. This could _not_ be happening. We have gotten so far. _He_ had gotten so far. Would the gods make it end _now_, just inches from the end?

It would seem so.

"Hatchling?" I whispered, touching his face with my snout. Sweyn was looking pale – way too pale – and still. Too still. Pressing down the growing dread and panic in my chest, I bent down and put my ear near his heart, listening, begging the gods and every other deity out there that _this could not end like this._ Couldn't they show us mercy, just once? Just once was all I would ask of them for the next lifetime.

For a few seconds, I heard nothing. If I have been human, I would have started crying long ago. But I wasn't, and dragons could not cry – instead, I could almost feel myself shaking as I listened harder, unwilling – unable – to give up. He _must_ be alive. If not…If not…

If not, what will I have anymore?

Thump.

I blinked. Oh, no way…

Thump.

No, it wasn't an illusion. I wasn't hearing things.

Thump.

_Yes!_

I couldn't possibly remember hearing something more…beautiful…in my life. Slowly, I drew my head up, away from Sweyn, and exhaled. Yes, he was breathing. He was alive, Odin be thanked. This would be the last favor I've ever begged to the gods with my life and future, for sure. I closed my eyes, ignoring the ocean waves and the mutterings behind me, instead focusing on the soft heartbeats and the light breathing. Unconscious, broken ribs, an even worse wrist, but _alive_ nonetheless. And it was all that mattered, wasn't it? As long as he lives, there will still be chance for everything to fall the way we want them to.

Lightly, I touched the hatchling's forehead with my snout and grinned, relief flooding me. So this is the joy of knowing your friend will live. I've never felt it before. My dame hadn't lived, and Wind Striker wasn't one to get into trouble. This was the first time, and although it was terrifying for the first few seconds, I relished in it.

Opening my eyes again, I looked at the familiar face for a little bit more, studying the already-memorized features. Sweyn would need help, I decided, from his kins. I needed to bring him back as fast as possible. Let's hope the council wouldn't want to have a long-winded ending.

I turned back to them, feeling merry all of a sudden. "Elders," I said loudly, confidently, " I believe you owe us a peace treaty until the end of next summer."

"You sure he's alive?" Lavabreath asked, sounding disappointed. "I'm sort of hungry –" Scythe's tail went up and slapped him clean across the snout before anyone could say a word to his question.

"You have done well, fledging," the Steel Reaper said calmly, throwing his friend a look that could melt diamond. Lavabreath, for his part, had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "You and your friend both. Very well. You have fulfilled your end of the bargain and we shall fulfill ours. Fly with us. That way no dragon would attack you as we near Death Rock."

I studied the dragon council in silence. Nightfall and Oceanwrath looked impressed, the latter if only slightly so. Lavabreath was nodding his head in consent, and Scythe was looking…well, like Scythe. But there was that sparkle in his eyes again, the one that came when he approved of a hatchling's action. Even Pearl, defeated and limping, met my eyes and nodded her head in grudging respect, her eyes seeming to look past me and at the human child behind. I wanted to beam, but I didn't. It wasn't my place to.

Stormgust and the Nightmare was too busy conversing to give us even a glance, and I suppose I should be grateful when they didn't catch the smirk I threw at them.

With that settled, I turned back to Sweyn, studying him for a second longer before deciding that it was enough. Reaching out with one claw, I picked him up as gently as I could and applied as much pressure as I dare to. It wouldn't do to kill him now. No, it wouldn't do at all.

Five minutes later, we were in the air and heading back to Death Rock. Home. For once ever since this whole fiasco had started out, I felt relief – total and utter relief. It was over, as impossible as it was. I never thought it would turn out like this; _could_ turn out like this. I remembered the dragons and their riders of Berk. They looked…happy. I wanted to believe that it would be possible to get the humans and dragons to live in peace.

All of this, changing the minds of the seven most powerful dragons that were in charge of this area, driving them into a bargain, completed the deal and everything else…

Sweyn was reckless, yes, stupid, yes, and so many more things. But I had to admit, I was glad he was as he was.

And, dare I say it, I was proud.

0o0o0o0o0

The dragons lived up to their promises. They arranged a gathering at the Dens and informed the others that the traitor and her human were to be left alone until further notice. Cocky responses and threatening looks were expected, but after Pearl personally related the "fight" to them, they've been a little more respectful. It surprised me how the Mood-dragoness could swallow her pride like that. I hadn't thought it possible.

Sweyn had indeed several broken ribs, his wrist, a broken ankle, a concussion and a lot bruises, but he would make full recovery – or that was what he was telling me. I camped near the house (or as close as I dare anyway) and entertained myself by making a commotion whenever I saw him open the window and trying to climb out. His dame pinched his ears several times while his sire, a tall man with the same hair but blue eyes, just stood back and shook his head in exasperation. Also, in this period of time, I found out that Half-Pint was very capable of an imitation of many dragons' The Eye. Had it been a few more notches scarier, I would seriously have thought about backing down.

About three or four weeks after the entire thing had died down and more and more dragons came talk to me and to take a look at the human child who supposedly beat even Pearl, the spring thaw set in. I have, for once, taken my eyes off of the hatchling's house and have contented to spend my time watching the thaw instead. By next month, the snow would disappear entirely and spring would be here for her yearly visit again. Winter was over.

"I can't believe we've gone this far," a voice mused across from me.

I didn't need to turn around to see the speaker. I could know that voice anywhere, and I have missed it dearly, although my gaze was frozen on the melting snow from my place atop the Left Oak. "Me neither," I conceded. "Me neither."

Sighing contentedly, I swung my tail from side to side, side to side, watching the now blue and slightly cloudy sky dreamily. It was hard to believe – no, it was nigh impossible to believe. But it had happened, and I was too glad that it did. Considering this entire thing, we were far more lucky than we've originally thought, seeing how neither of us had lost any limb (like Hiccup and Toothless did) and how we've both survived with no permanent damage. All we have to worry about now is a deadline, and in some senses, it was much better than limbs. _Much_ better.

"Now if we could just convince my people that dragons are not what they seem," Sweyn said wistfully. I glanced at him. Oh, there we go again, worrying too soon.

"We have until the end of next summer," I told the hatchling. "That is plenty of time to think and to scheme. And knowing you," I cocked my head, "I believe that we can achieve that goal. And we shall."

One corner of Sweyn's mouth curved upward. He nodded gratefully, his grey eyes shining. "Yes, thank you. That we will. Together."

"Together," I repeated. "Yes, together."

Silence engulfed us, a kind of companionable silence that I've tasted only once or twice before. The birds' songs were more…urgent this time. They were singing songs of welcome, I guess, because another treacherous winter had ended, and spring was dawning. But I imagined that they sang songs of victory, for _our_ victory, for the friendship that had, surprisingly, bailed us through troubles I've never thought could have come my way, let alone happen.

"Hey," Sweyn said suddenly, "The Berk folks are leaving next week, and I want my payback for the wrist." He gestured toward the right arm he was having in a sling. "Wanna help out?"

I looked at him, at his familiar, grinning face (albeit still a bit pale), and then at the mischievous grey eyes. "They are coming here," I said at last, tilting my head as I listened to the noise of bickering of the twins, Ruff and Tuff, drawing closer. "What do you have in mind?"

Sweyn's grin widened. "Snotlout has a deathly fear of the dark and rotting bodies, I am afraid." He took a fake sympathetic look. "That is sad news indeed."

I turned toward my left, noting the cavern that was visible from afar. Far as I know, nobody has cared to remove the Monstrous Nightmare body I'd killed from what seemed like an eternity ago. Turning back to the grinning hatchling, I narrowed my eyes.

"I have an idea that _just_ might work."

**Fin**

* * *

_And we are down to an epilogue._

_Oh, and one more thing. If it isn't too much to ask, can I have a review from everyone who've faved/alerted this story? I want to know some of the lurkers' opinions, please. Don't worry, this is the last time in awhile I'll beg for reviews._

_PS: Sweyn's house lie near the forest. That's why Tempest could get so close to it. And she had to remain at least half a mile from it all the time, if some of you are wondering._

**Review Replies (_Council of Doom_)**

**Toothless-the-nightfury: **Ah, thank you! I need that. We just ran out of eggs. And yeah, this is it. Except I have an epilogue coming up, which will connect this one to the sequel. After that, I shall take a migration to somewhere far away and spend a month or so doing something else.

**Alana kitty-chan:** Well, but it worked. And Sweyn did it, although with some injuries. But he _still_ had a deadline to fulfill. He got a spring and a summer, though, so no biggie. I think.

**.byebye:** Here you are: the next half of the climax and the final chapter of this insane piece that started out as a frail plot bunny. I hope you enjoyed it from beginning to end.

**wakazimaru: **I know, I know, but semi-climaxes give me time to think things over before putting them into words. Sorry for taking so long and sorry that it ended like this, but it's a good place to end it. Leave a review and have a great day! And for my credits, Sweyn walked out with a looming deadline but whole nonetheless. So...cheers?

**Genome Soldier:** Ah, welcome back! I've missed seeing you around. And yes, this story is basically me taking the Hiccup/Toothless friendship, twist everything the wrong way, sprinkle a bit of my taste into it here and there, and we are done. And Sweyn did complete his objective, but he didn't win. Who could win against a dragon with a knife?

**Medicant Bias: **Welcome again, buddy! I always love hearing from you! So this is a summary, eh? To be honest, this story had been writing itself since chapter two, and I haven't known what the heck I've been typing since then. But if you say so! :) The council's personalities are, surprisingly, the easiest part of the chapter. And I didn't even sketch them out or anything. They just...happened. But I have to say, I am quite proud of it. Maybe I would even do a few drabbles about some of their members! Stay tuned. Aye, Oceanwrath was the eldest, which means she would have been alive about seven to eight thousand years already. Or even longer. I don't know. You can now use your imagination to figure out the rest because I am too lazy to do so myself -looking shame-faced- And I wouldn't call this a saga, really. Not epic enough. But we can all dream. Well, Sweyn wouldn't lose a limb, but he got himself incapacitated for some weeks and a deadline. I guess it's sort of fair trade, considering I didn't intend to make him a hero or anything. Just a boy who got in way over his head. The council didn't mention Toothless because, well, you have to admit, that business ended nicely, and they are most likely trying to make Tempest and Sweyn believe the opposite. And perhaps you are right, the TV series couldn't have the same quality as the movie. But still, I think I need my daily dose of HTTYD if I would be able to get to the sequel...

Scrambled eggs appreciated. Don't worry, I ate it when Sweyn was lying in his bed groaning about stupid dragons and their tails.

**Brian0101:** A new reader? Welcome! I am glad you like it. I can't believe this started out as a story that waited months for a review and nobody said anything...And now it developed into this! Also, I appreciate the cookies.

**Radec: **And here's the end. Except for the epilogue. I'll get that up soon. Thank you for sticking with me!

**plummy-kins:** Oh, stop it! You're making me blush! XD

**Rydd Rider: **Losing limbs isn't the only way to end a fight, my friend - and thank the gods for that. I want my character un-handicapped for the most part, so this is how it ended. Sweyn might just change his opinion regarding dragons if he did indeed lose something that important. I won't be too forgiving if one of my friend's friends bite off my hand, either.

**marmelada: **So that's where you went! I sympathize your lack of internet (I can't live two weeks without it) but you are back, and that's what matters, right? Sorry, my schedule's been a little tight lately, and you came back just in time for the end. And since you cared enough to review, I already believe that you think this story is awesome. You don't like the TV idea? Well, I respect your opinions and I'll admit, your arguments have logic in them. And indeed, there are deviantart (which I visit daily) and still FF. net. I guess I'll have to sit with it, then.

_Once again, sincere thanks all around. Confetti and parties, folks! Cheers!_

_Good day,  
~the Apprentice_


	24. Epilogue: And So It Ends, For Now

**Epilogue: And So It Ends…For Now**

"And that," the great white dragoness finished, "is my tale, from the beginning to the end." She glanced at the dark-haired man sitting on her back, and he translated it for their audience, a smile on his bearded face.

There was silence around the campfire as the children, teenagers, adults and dragons who've been listening to it digested what they've just been told. Although fragments of the story had been passed around for several years, nobody had heard its full version. This was the first, and a tale it was. It would bring talks and questions for weeks on end now.

A child raised his hand. "But what happened afterward, Tempest?" he asked, dark blue eyes shining with curiosity. "How did you fulfill your oath and got the dragons to come to us? How did it come to now?" The plump Toxic Nightshade clinging to his shoulder also chirped, tilting her little head.

Tempest and Sweyn Hocksson exchanged a glance. Yes, Tempest's story might have drawn to a close, but then there was the _other_ problem, the bargain they've made, the other adventure – or misadventure, as many would say – before things finally settled down as nicely as it had now. It was a long and dangerous one, but it was one Sweyn would never forget. Neither would Tempest, actually. None of them would.

"And who's Morgana?" another dragon piped up. "You know, the name that the evil kelp…cap…cat…"

"Captain," his dame corrected.

"Yes, _captain_, called out when you found the ship," the hatchling finished, unabashed. "Who is she?"

Sweyn glanced at the sky. The moon was just about up, and the day after tomorrow would be the Midsummer Celebration. He would have to deal with the bunch of young dragons plus the chieftain _plus_ the wedding of the chieftain's daughter _plus_ the Berk folks who would come over for their annual visit. It would be a busy six weeks.

The Viking smiled at the young dragonet. "That's another fine story," he admitted, looking over the audience that have gathered around him and formed a tight circle near the bonfire. He slid off Tempest's back and stretched, yawning hugely. "But…perhaps another time."

"Tomorrow?" a girl asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow," Sweyn promised. He smiled at Tempest. "And I believe it will be my turn."

"Feel free to talk until your throat is sore," she said airily. "At least then I don't have to hear you complain."

Sweyn grinned ruefully at her as a ripple of laughter passed through the dispersing crowd, but he nodded again as he started walking toward his house. "Yes, I'll be the story-teller next time." He glanced to the west, past the ocean, and his gaze darkened. However, before the comment could escape Tempest, he'd already walked on.

The white dragoness tilted her head as she watched him, but then she made to follow. What happened next was not altogether pleasant, no matter which way she looked at it. And her friend still feared it, Tempest thought. He still found the memories terrifying. Well, she agreed that their villain wasn't all sane and that witch was, for the lack of better words, Loki twisted the very wrong way.

But _she_ wasn't afraid. _Because, after all,_ Tempest told herself a bit smugly, _I am a dragon._

_And now, I bid the fandom farewell. Sincere thanks to _**Spyden**_, who I did not send this for you to beta because it's just too short and I don't want to bother you with something like this. But know that without you, the last half of this story wouldn't have been so good. Thank you._

_Perhaps someday soon, the sequel will be there. But as of now, I'll take a vacation from HTTYD until the end of August. Once again, I can't say how grateful I am to all of my readers' support and all the guys and girls who faved and/or added me to alert. Wish me luck on my next installment._

_A toast to all of you,  
~the Apprentice_


End file.
